My Life, This Art
by ShadowSight101
Summary: This is the story of a boy...a boy who was rejected, lost and alone...Who found himself in a place he thought he'd never be.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One:

"Sensei, am I really just a tool?"

"All nins are tools, child."

"Sensei, are these tools too?"

"Yes, child."

"But…they don't want to hurt anyone, Sensei."

"I'm sorry, child. But as a nin, you must not show emotion. There are bad people out there that want to hurt you and your father."

"My father, Sensei? Why?"

"I do not know, child." The small boy looked at his hands sadly.

"Why is there war, Sensei?"

"War is caused by greed, pride, revenge and hate."

"Isn't it also caused by love?" The old man looked at the innocent soul before him. No, he wasn't innocent. He knew things beyond his young age. He could read your mind just by looking at your eyes. He knew things about war—unconsciously. Yet the boy strived for more knowledge.

"Child, not everything has a worldly answer. Besides, child, this knowledge will not last you forever."

"So, because nins will die…we must be stupid?" My, how that boy could twist his words so easily and fire them back at twice the speed.

"I am tired, child."

"I'm sorry, Sensei. I will go back home immediately." He inclined his head and ran out of the old house. As soon as the door shut, the old nin sighed and sat back in his chair with a creak. That boy was terribly energetic…he made the old feel young as long as he was around. His large blue eyes could change from a sweet, young shine to a solemn, grim pool. He resembled his mother so much it was uncanny. The golden hair that framed his face…that innocent smile, full of untold wisdom. He was terribly kind, to the elderly and young alike.

However, even though he was kind and gentle to everyone, the children pushed him away. Whenever he passed through the richer part of the village, he saw their comfortable, fine clothes and would look at his rags. He would see the boys and girls showing off their new moves, causing mini tremors in the area. Then he would look at his hands, and hide them in his armpits. One time he had run into a fine playground, waving his arms and smiling. The children mounted atop the slides and swings refused to let him play. They pushed him off of the swings and dragged him off the slide. They told him he didn't belong. They laughed at his hands.

He never strayed off course again. The only time he passed through those neighborhoods was to deliver a report to the Tsuchikage. Every time he would hug his sides, his eyes flitting from person to person. Although Sensei said it didn't matter, they teased him about his clothes and how 'unstylish' they were. He reported to the Tsuchikage, who would find the boy bruised, sore, and almost in tears. However, the child would refuse any treatment, deliver the report, collect the reward money and leave. Never had he seen such a determined boy before.

:--:

"Father?"

"Yes, my son?" The boy shrunk from the large figure in the doorway.

"I…I have to run some errands for the elderly today."

"Again? You should rest…yes…"

"N-no…They need help, father."

"Then go!" The silhouette shrieked, producing a small object from the table beside it.

"Yes, father!" The boy screamed, jumping away from the doorway where a broken bottle now lay.

"Go! Get out! Now! I never want to see your dirty face again!"

"Yes, father!" Hot tears beat his eyelids, begging to be let out. His vision was distorted and blurry as he ran.

**_But as a nin, you must not show emotion…_** he tripped over a rock, and he scrambled to his feet frantically. He ran, using the alleys as his sanctuary. He soon exited the village. He scaled a mountain a short way, until he spotted a large crack. He slipped through it, until he reached a small cave. The tears still threatened to spill over. He allowed them to crawl from under his eyelids to spill over his face. He coughed, a little mixture of blood and spit. He didn't care. He screamed, long and loud, full of pain and hate. The pain and hate rebounded around him, danced around him and taunted him. A step made him whirl around to face the entrance where…

**He** stood.

The boy whimpered as the man stepped towards him with a sadistic gleam in his eyes.

:--:

Slowly, the world became real again. He could feel his hands—and his wounds—again. He also could feel separate hands probing him for injuries. The hands hit a tender gash, and he flinched. He could feel cool hands caressing his heated face, relaxing him and allowing unconsciousness to claim him once again.

:--:

He felt his bones mend as the foreign hands transferred chakra into his broken body. He didn't move, just laid there with his eyes closed and, for once in two years, rested peacefully.

One day he opened his eyes—he wanted to see his savior. However, all he saw was a form hidden by a cloak. But he could sense the kindness and the gentleness of this stranger.

"Little boy…What is your name?" A woman's voice. The boy looked away and said nothing. "Have you none?" Still, he stayed silent. "Or have you forgotten?" He bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut. Gently, the figure smoothed his hair and bent down to his ear. "I haven't."

:--:

Every day, the boy would visit the cave. The stranger would teach him more about the chakra system, how to focus the chakra and how to use it. This mysterious woman knew more than that old sensei. She knew how to turn his favorite clay figurines into beautiful art. The boy learned how to transfer his chakra into clay that his mouths sculpted. He made art daily.

Then **He** came back. **He** came into the cave with various weapons on him. The mysterious sensei dashed in front of the boy, shielding him from each heavy blow. The cloak slipped away from her face, exposing the kind and gentle features. The boy screamed, pushed her away. The dead can't come back. The dead can't come back. Then **He** stabbed a kunai into her chest. She lay on the ground, a pool of crimson surrounding her. **He** threw a kunai at the boy. She screamed for him to roll, drop, anything. The boy moved slightly, but too slow. He felt himself become numb in the left half of his face. His eye refused to move. **He **moved over to the boy, and pulled out the kunai.

The boy felt that.

She was killed with the very kunai that gouged out his eye. He begged for **Him** to stop…but **He** wouldn't…

He barely lived through the infection and fever, had **He** not implanted something cold and dead in place of his eye.

The only thing that was definite in the boy's mind was the last thing she—no, his mother—had said.

"Deidara."

:--:

Art. That was what he wanted. He wanted art so badly.

He hadn't seen…hadn't felt art in so long.

He wanted to make art. He wanted a large, useful canvas where he could make the most beautiful artwork he had ever made. He had the canvas. He had the brush and paint. All he needed to do is to draw the outlines, then fill them in. Lowering his hand into a pack of clay he had hanging on his side, he sat on the ledge in front of his hidden cave. The outline. His hand-mouth chewed determinedly on the slick clay. Soon, a small bird emerged from the hand-mouth. It was perfectly sculpted, perfectly proportioned.

"You'll make beautiful art with me…" Deidara cooed to the small bird. He performed a hand seal, and it grew in size until it was twice as large as the boy. He fed his hands another glob of clay. In a minute, two new birds emerged from his palms. A step came from his left. He knew that **He**…no. He must not be scared of that man anymore. His father was there on his left, watching him create his brushes of art.

"What do you think you are doing, boy?" He did not answer. He had a name. He wouldn't answer to "boy".

He concentrated on making the one sculpture that he had been trying to perfect for weeks. His father stepped closer. Deidara did not flinch. Soon, a small strange bird appeared from his palms. He held it up to his father, just as he did when he was much younger, just learning the art of clay.

"Look, father," he said as nonchalantly as possible, "look. It's my specialty. I'll call it C-3." His father's eyes widened.

"You will not…!" By then, Deidara had leaped upon his airborne steed.

"Art is a bang!" He smiled as he threw the two birds down to his father. He executed a hand seal and both birds exploded immediately. When the smoke cleared, the boy could still see his father's mangled body. However, that man was still alive.

"Don't…don't! I'm sorry for what I have done…" The boy proceeded to take another small bird that had appeared from his palm. "Stop! Stop…Deidara!" The boy hesitated. But he had wanted to do this for a long while now. He threw the small bird down to his father and cried,

"Catch!" and released the bird. He was sure that man was dead. After a few minutes of flight, a large rock wall blocked their way. Deidara tsked. He directed the bird around the wall. Three more walls surrounded him, blocking his way out. He smirked and the bird started to ascend. However, as soon as they were level with the top of the rock wall, Deidara started to feel lightheaded and it was harder to breathe. Quickly, he warped the meaning of what was happening. _They forced me up here so I would die slowly. They're wrong!_ He prepared his precious package. The great bird descended from the stifling clouds, hovering low.

"There he is!"

"Get him!"

"Stop slackin'! The kid's gotta die!"

"Hurry up! Get the long-range specialist!" Deidara snickered at their frantic actions, at the chaos below. He was just out of reach, but could hear every word that was uttered.

"Yeah…A good canvas. If only they stayed still. It would make a more beautiful painting," He prepared his specialty. By then, they had brought out the long-range specialist. His eye widened. "Sensei?" The old man pretended not to notice.

Deidara's great steed circled the old man. Deidara became frantic. Surely…Surely Sensei would help him!

"Sensei!"

"You have done something horrible, child." The old man said quietly, as if scolding a child for stealing a cookie.

"**Sensei!**"

"I am very disappointed in you, child." He continued to ignore the child's cries.

"**_Sensei!_**"

"Why is there war, child? It is because of people like you." Sensei acknowledged Deidara's small presence.

"**_SENSEI!_**" Deidara shrieked as the old man executed hand seals to the point where Deidara could not follow his hands with his eye. That old man would pay. He would pay for not helping a child.

"Do not worry, child. You will see your father soon—"

"**_I HATE ALL OF YOU!_**" Deidara's eye acquired a maniacal gleam. The tuft of hair he had combed over his unnatural eye was swept aside from a passing wind. The old man's eyes widened considerably.

"What did you do, child…?" Deidara began to cough, blood trickling from his mouth. He was getting too worked up.

"Oh, I didn't do it, un," The boy snarled. "My father," he spat, "did this. He gouged out my eye! He killed Mother with that very tool that destroyed my eye!"

"What are you saying, child? Your mother was already—"

"**No she wasn't!**" He shrieked. "You just told me that to make me weak, then you could kill me, un!" Again, he coughed, drawing blood.

"Please, child, don't be—"

"Enough talk! Catch me if you can, un!" He laughed. His steed caught an air current, and then rose far above the town. The boy dropped his special paint onto the sprawling canvas. Fill in the lines. "Release!" He shrieked as he performed a hand seal. The bird expanded and descended slowly towards the silent village. Deidara watched in silent glee as the bird began to expand even more, emitting a great light. And then…

Ah.

Art.

Beautiful, precious art.

:--:

Deidara relished the cool wind that played with his hair, letting him release his anger into the breeze. The bird flapped its great wings once, elevating it and its passenger another few yards. He felt calm and content. He thought back to what he had done a few hours ago.

He wasn't resentful of what he had created at all. The village should be grateful, being turned from an old, ugly village to a great masterpiece. _This is how they show their appreciation…_ he thought bitterly as he examined a few deep gashes in his legs. He had stopped the bleeding for a while, but he needed to get to a stream. There wasn't many around Iwagakure—it was extremely dry there.

In a half hour the bird had alighted next to a river. It was a lazy one, moving slowly with gentle curves. He stripped to his underwear and stepped into the river. He emitted a low growl as the cold water swept over his wounds. It made tendrils of red twist and twirl in the water. His coughing fit had stopped a while ago after seeing such great art. Slowly he snapped off several thick, glossy leaves from the trees around him, relishing the cool water even if it stung his injuries. He pressed the leaves to his wounds, flinching as the juices flooded into his gashes. In another half hour, he bandaged his wounds with strips of cloth. He redressed soon after, mounting his airborne steed once again.

The next week was a blur. He caused a commotion because of his bird and his Iwagakure headband. From then on, Deidara destroyed his creation before he entered a village or any source of civilization. He stashed his headband in his pack, doing odd jobs and errands for various people. He earned enough money to buy new clothes, shoes and equipment. However, news of his greatest art had spread like wildfire, along with descriptions of the ten year-old boy. Now he had to take even greater precautions—destroy the bird and leave no evidence of clay, hide his hitai-ate where no eye could find it, hide his clay and henge before he encountered anyone. It was troublesome. But he knew if anyone saw his eye camera, the ANBU would be after him in a second's notice. So he had to henge, as if it were his sole purpose.

He just couldn't get anywhere near Konohagakure. The infamous Hyuuga clan, who was in possession of the Byakugan, resided there. They would see right through his henge.

Usually he walked through towns as a man, brown haired and green eyed, changing his hitai-ate every few days. Deidara didn't like being so generic, since it was terribly unartistic. However, he would rather risk unartisticness than the ANBU. For the time being, he was safe.

Or so he thought.

:--::--:

My first Deidara fiction, and my first hopefully serious Naruto fiction. Enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two:

_Just great. I have to find a person to replace **me**!_ A tall, pale man thought savagely. His dark cloak billowed around his lean form. _How did they find out? Someone ratted on me…_

"What are you stopping for, Orochimaru?" A quiet but commanding voice broke his thoughts.

"What are you here for, Mr. Muppet?" Taboo. Oh, taboo.

"Pardon?" The voice was thick with hostility.

"I meant…it was kind of you to join me." The snake-like man said, sarcasm dripping from his words. The duo walked in silence, keeping a careful distance from each other.

"I'm looking for the boy from Iwagakure." Orochimaru admitted, knowing full well that the puppet master was curious who he was searching for.

"That brat?"

"You know him?" The tall man slowed down so his squat partner could catch up.

"…No."

"Then you can't say anything! Anyway, we have to test him. If he defeats either of us—"

"Namely, you."

"That too. But he won't, so you won't be stuck with the brat, mmkay?" The man smiled…something that couldn't be trusted. That smile always sent involuntary shivers down the puppeteer's spine. Well, generally whenever that snake-man was around he got the heebie-jeebies. Not that anyone used that word anymore…

:--:

Deidara groaned. His legs ached, his butt hurt and his wounds throbbed. The bird descended next to a stream Deidara spotted from his high chair in the clouds. He carefully rolled up his pants, exposing his infected wounds. He had done all he could for the throbbing gashes, but they had gotten infected anyway. He winced as he placed his legs in the water. It hurt. Bad.

He opened his eye and dried off his legs. Quickly, he wrapped them with some bandages he bought in the last town. He tried to be nonchalant as he did this, but still he was nervous. He sensed the killer intent behind him, along with a faint thread of chakra. He cursed. The ANBU already? Deidara slipped a kunai from his pouch and threw it behind him. There was a rustle, then nothing. He fed his hands some clay, looking around all the while. Finally, the sculptures were done. Setting them on the ground, he hopped on his steed. They ascended quickly.

"Relea—eh?" Snakes—big, ugly ones—were rushing up to meet him. They opened their ugly mouths, trying to consume him and his creation. Following the snakes to the ground with his eye, Deidara saw with evident glee that his birds were next to where the snakes were. "Release!" Ah, art. But he couldn't enjoy it in peace for long.

"What an interesting technique." A freaky old, snakey man had appeared next to Deidara on a giant, annoyed snake.

"Uaa! It…it isn't for you to know!"

"Oh?" A boney hand snaked out from beneath the too-big coat. It latched onto Deidara's wrist like an unwanted leech.

"**Uaa! **What do you think you're **doing**?" The boy yanked his hand out of the old man's grasp and let a bird fly free.

"You play with clay toys? That's it?" The snake-man asked, thoroughly disappointed. Deidara ground his teeth.

"I thought you said that I had an interesting technique, un."

"No, I meant the duck you're riding on right now."

"**_DUCK?_**" No. Oh no. He did not just go there. He didn't care about the "respect your elders" rule. This was no duck! It was a freakin' work of art! Why couldn't people see that? He furiously created two more birds. Two more _works of art_. Not ducks. Definitely not ducks. Soon, two beaks peeked out from Deidara's palms. Two bird beaks. Not duckbills.

"Oh. Dear. He's a freaky art brat that thinks he's so great. The organization is screwed—"

"Who did you call a freaky art brat?" Deidara hissed from behind the snake-man. The pale man turned, only to see three birds launched at him. Deidara watched from a distance as the man grabbed the birds and examined them calmly.

"These aren't rigged, huh. He's just a bluffer—"

"**Art. Is. A. _Bang_.**" He hissed. Seeing art again calmed him down a bit. He saw the giant snake disappear in a bunch of smoke—but not before hissing "I demand 200 lives for this…!". Then the old creep was hurtling out of the sky, his giant cloak flapping around him in silent surrender. He took a big breath, just in case he would start coughing again.

Deidara alighted next to the river. But he heard a sort of sliding noise. He whirled again, seeing a squat old man emerging from the bushes, with a bandanna of some sort covering his mouth. What hit Deidara is that he was wearing the same cloak as the old creep.

"How many freaks are here?" Deidara asked, knowing it was disrespectful. However, he was at his limit—he had seen enough of that other guy to last him a month!

"It's my turn." A scorpion tail shot out from behind the old man.

"Uaa! Wha…Wha…" He never got to finish the question. So he jumped on his bird and hovered just out of the tail's reach. He threw kunai and shuriken, but the tail blocked them all. He had half a bag left of clay and a few spiders. He threw down a few spiders. More art! Never had he seen such wonderful art so many times in a day. It was satisfying, knowing that his art could take on two freaky grandpas.

However, Deidara spotted a silhouette in the clearing smoke. It was considerably shorter, thinner and more pissed than the old man.

Whoa. Was the old man in little bloodless shards?

Cool!

"…Look what you did to Hiruko." Eh? Hiruko?

"Pardon, kid?" He turned towards the redheaded boy.

"You. Just. Destroyed. Hiruko." The boy hissed.

"Ehh…your…grandpa there?" He asked, totally clueless, pointing to the unconscious snake-man.

"**Hiruko**, brat. That 'freak' you just saw." The boy's aqua eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Uhh…?"

"In short, you destroyed my masterpiece." Bang! It hit Deidara.

"You were inside that freaky thing?"

"It's art. Brat."

"No, it sure ain't."

"Then what is art, brat?"

"Something much prettier than that."

"You did not just say that."

"Uh…I thought I did." He stuck out his tongue and ascended quickly.

_Clack click clack click…_ Deidara whirled around as a puppet dressed in rags hurtled towards him. No…his duck! Wait! _Stupid Deidara_, he scolded himself, _you let that old creep get to you! My creation! Its going for my creation!_ He had thought for too long. The puppet's blade pierced the bird.

Deidara cursed as he leaped off of the bird, quickly creating another bird. An explosion warped the air above him. He executed the hand seals as fast as he could. _Clack click clack click…_Stupid puppet! He flipped in mid-air, effectively stopping the hand seals. The blade severed a few strands of hair. He saw the falling strands turn a strange brown. Geez, this puppeteer wasn't being so nice. Using poison against a kid like him?

Suddenly he saw the puppet flying towards him, the kunai poised at his head.

Just like his father had.

**_Move, Deidara. Move!_** He obeyed the unknown voice…too slow. It slammed against his metal eye. The puppet seemed to realize that the weapon hadn't pierced anything. So it opened another hidden compartment in its arm, and it drove a poison tipped needle in his chest. He hung in mid-air, paralyzed. His whole face was frozen in a mask of horror. He was remembering things he shouldn't remember. Had he screamed? Something…he remembered something and pain laced his nonexistent eye.

Someone had caught him. He couldn't see, his vision was getting hazy.

"Mother…?" Deidara whimpered, reaching out to whoever had saved him. She had come back once…why not twice? His hand was gently pushed aside and his body was placed on a soft surface. An unknown fluid was slipped into his mouth, and he tried to spit it out. But with a practiced hand, fingers closed his mouth and stroked the boy's throat, effectively making him swallow the foreign liquid. He gagged and shuddered involuntarily.

He was tired. Chakra depletion, most probably…His thoughts grew fainter and dimmer and soon he was blissfully asleep.

:--:

When Deidara woke, he had a killer headache. When he tried to move, his muscles screamed at him to stop. However, the bed he was on was pretty nice. He tried to sit up, but hand was placed on his forehead, another on his shoulder. The hand was cold on his heated forehead. He was pushed down onto the bed.

"Sleep," It was a command, although quiet. Deidara obeyed as well as he could, and in a minute, he slept.

The next day…week…however long it was, Deidara drifted in and out of consciousness. At one point, he saw a slim figure bending over him to check his temperature.

"Mother?" Always, the same answer.

"Sleep," And always, he would obey.

The fever finally broke. He felt grimy and groggy, but he could breathe peacefully again. His vision returned as well. So he sought out the slim person that had nursed him back to health. The door of the room slid open, and a small redheaded boy stepped in the room. The stone slammed into place behind him.

"You're up, I see…" It took a while for Deidara to register the face in front of him. But when he did, he scrutinized the room for the pale creep. The boy smirked. "Don't worry about that snake. He's gone."

"For how long?"

"Forever, as far as I can tell," Deidara looked at the cloak the redhead was wearing. Black with red clouds embroidered on it. Where…

"Uaa! Akatsuki!" Deidara jumped. "What are you going to do to me?" He glared at the boy across from him suspiciously.

"Tch. Nothing bad," He rolled his aqua eyes. "What did you think we would do with you, brat? You're fairly useless for now."

"Brat? I'm probably older than you."

"Wouldn't you love to know?" The redhead retaliated. "…Have you ever heard of Akasuna no Sasori?"

"Of course," Deidara twitched. "Wait…" He turned towards the impassive boy.

"Perhaps," The boy looked away. Deidara groaned. Akasuna no Sasori? He was rooming with that puppet man? But that would make the boy in front of him nearly—what—forty?

"Ne, how old—"

"You should rest. The antidote's side effects aren't so pleasant," Then he swept out of the room, calm as anything.

"Tch. That isn't so nice. Avoiding the question…" He slipped back to sleep soon after.

:--:

"…I just don't feel as if he would be able to take the missions that you give us, Leader-sama," Sasori stated.

"What happened to Orochimaru, then?"

"Orochimaru," he said, resisting the urge to say 'the gay snake man', "was unprepared and underestimated the boy by tenfold."

"The boy was prepared?"

"He did not realize that we were part of the Akatsuki until today."

"Hm…he'd make a great asset to Akatsuki. He overpowered Orochimaru."

"Yes, Leader-sama."

"Also, he was prepared."

"…He does not look it, Leader-sama," The dark figure sighed impatiently.

"Sasori, the boy will help the cause. Trust me on this one."

"I always do, Leader-sama."

"That's a comfort. You are dismissed," Sasori left the dark room, always calm and collected. Until he was in his room he was sharing with the brat again. Then he punched the rock wall several times. It didn't do much, except a few dislodged pebbles rained on Sasori.

"Uh…Sasori-san…is something wrong…?" The redhead whirled around and saw the blonde brat propped up on his elbow, facing him with a large cerulean eye.

"Lay back down, brat. You'll hurt yourself," Sasori snapped. The blonde carefully lay back down, still watching the frustrated redhead.

"Is it about me?" The puppeteer stared at Deidara's eye. He tried to determine what the boy was hiding behind the mat of hair.

"Frankly, yes," He watched the boy's eye falter, the confidence and hope diminishing all at once.

"Oh…I see," Deidara turned and faced the wall opposite of Sasori. After a few minutes, the redhead could see that the brat was sound asleep. He decided to work on Hiruko.

That was another thing. The brat had totally demolished Hiruko's wood plating. If the boy decided on blowing more stuff up…how troublesome it would get.

He sighed and grabbed his tools. He started to carve a plate. It was fairly peaceful.

Then the brat started to cough. The stuffy, raspy cough that annoyed Sasori to no end. And because of that, the blonde had awakened, his hands to his mouth. Sasori paid no attention until the coughing became more insistent and raspy. Finally, the puppeteer looked up from his carving, annoyed.

Or, annoyed, then alarmed.

Blood trickled from between Deidara's fingers. His face was red, and his chest was heaving.

"Get off the bed," Deidara did that as smoothly as he could with his inflicted legs. "Come with me." Deidara followed Sasori obediently into a bathroom. The red haired boy grabbed a few vials and a towel, which he soaked in warm water. Deidara's coughing fit had stopped for a short while. Sasori carefully wiped the boy's mouth and fingers with the towel. He was about to give the antidote to the boy when the blonde shook his head.

"It's not because of the poison, un. I've had this cough ever since I was little, un."

"How little?"

"I…don't know, un," He coughed again, blood splattering his fingers. Sasori narrowed his eyes.

"You need medicine."

"I've never used medicine, un," The redhead looked deep in his eye.

"Why not?"

"We…were too poor to afford any, un. Then father st—" The mention of his father, the source of all his pain, caused him to become flustered once again. It triggered his cough. Sasori was about to stop Deidara from talking anymore, but the boy shook his head. "Father…started to drink, un. Mother…" He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Mother…ran away, un. She left…me." Sasori nodded absently.

"It must be internal bleeding," Sasori inferred, completely ignoring what the boy had said. It was Deidara's turn to nod. "When you were younger, was this cough worse?"

"Un," Was all he was able to say before coughing.

"…It must have scarred over, wherever the cut was, but lightly."

"Un…"

"Whenever you strain yourself, it seems to open up again," Deidara looked at the ground. "Do you have any idea why the scar is so thin?"

"I…must have strained myself…too hard on…on the missions. Un…"

"Didn't your team help you?"

"No."

"…" Sasori looked at the bloody towel in his hands. He rinsed it off in the sink. "Why do you sometimes say 'un' and other times not?"

"It's just the blood…un," Sasori nodded. The coughing fit had subsided a bit. That was good.

"…Give me your hands. They still have blood on them."

"Uh…I can wash my own hands, un." Aware that his hand-mouths were active from the blood his hands.

"Let me see them." Sasori sighed, his patience short. Finally, he grabbed Deidara's hands and turned them over…

And promptly dropped them.

Deidara shifted on his feet, his eye glued to his feet. He had gone back to his old habit of tucking his hands in his armpits. Sasori observed these human actions with guilty interest. He knew that the boy felt bad, but he was observing him like a guinea pig. He automatically inferred things from these actions anyway.

The shifting of his feet—he wanted to get away. The eye that was staring intently at his feet was an action showing embarrassment and shame. And tucking away the hands was saying that he was trying to hide from the inevitable, that he was trying to **hide** the inevitable. The boy cleared his throat of the blood.

"Um…I'll…I'll wash my hands…un," Sasori sighed as he watched the boy carefully wash his hands.

"There's nothing wrong about them, brat. I just wasn't expecting it," He said as gently as he could.

"Everything's wrong about them, un," He had scraped off the last of the blood and he dried his hands off on his pants.

"Shh. Your lungs," Deidara sighed in exasperation.

"I hate my lungs and my hands, un,"

"Don't say that. That technique you used about two weeks ago was pretty interesting."

"Two weeks?"

"Yeah," There was silence. Deidara put his hand on the door. It wouldn't budge.

"Uh…"

"It can only be opened by Akatsuki members," Sasori's mouth tweaked a little.

"Oh. Sorry…but…how am I supposed to go to the restroom?"

"Hold it."

"What?"

"If I'm in a bad mood, hold it," Deidara scowled.

"Fine…can I go to the restroom now, then?" Sasori shrugged, then turned his back to Deidara. "Uh…aren't you gonna leave?"

"Once this door senses there are people in here, it won't open from the outside," Deidara groaned.

"Fine."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three…

"Get to bed, brat. You need the rest," Sasori murmured.

"Yes, master," Deidara sneered. He obeyed anyway. Sasori sighed, the silence surrounding him. Sweet silence.

Kind of.

First the brat started to mutter something about a 'freaky snake man,' and 'it's not a duck'. Then…

"Where's the newbie?" The door swung open and crashed into the wall, revealing a tall, grinning, blue man with a giant sword strapped to his back. A shorter, more silent teen trailed behind, his dark hair in a low ponytail. Sasori growled in annoyance. Always butting in at the wrong time.

"Kisame," the teen growled. The fish-like man, apparently Kisame, snorted.

"Yeah, yeah. Barging into rooms isn't your thing, Itachi, but I'm sure that the newbie's in here!" He spotted a small lump under the covers, a tuft of blonde hair poking up from the sheets. The lump moved to reveal a small, fine face framed with long, blonde hair.

"…" Itachi squirmed.

"The noob's a girl?" Kisame rushed over to see this new phenomenon.

"…Kisame. Itachi. Out. Now." Sasori ordered. Kisame advanced on the 'sleeping beauty', as he had now dubbed 'her'.

"Wha…? Whazzuh?" Deidara awoke from all the commotion, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

"Whassup, newbie? You likin' it here in Akatsuki? Lotsa guys here! Ain't it great?" Kisame all but roared in Deidara's face.

"Ack! Get away! He's gonna freakin' eat—" He began to cough again, drawing blood and splattering the white sheets.

"Whoa, now! Hey, Itachi! I created a new jutsu! It's called Shove-Your-Face-Into-The-Enemy's-Face-And-Scare-Them-So-Bad-That-They-Cough-Blood no jutsu!"

"…Kisame. I'm going," Itachi said in that strange monotone voice he had.

"Yeah, yeah. You're just no…Oh, hey, Sasori," Kisame faltered as he saw the puppeteer's expression.

"Get. Out. I am an impatient man, and you know that."

"Yes, yes! We get it!" Kisame hustled out of the room. Sasori walked over to Deidara.

"You get worked up easily," he stated.

"…I guess, un…"

"Your training starts tomorrow."

"Tomorrow, un?" Deidara exclaimed.

"With the right exercises, your lungs should be okay."

"Do you know what those right exercises are, un?"

"…no."

"…That's a comfort, Sasori-san, un."

"Get to sleep, brat." Deidara lowered himself onto his designated bed, glancing guiltily at the stained white sheets. "Don't worry about that, brat. Just…sleep." Soon, soft breathing filled the room, calming Sasori and allowing him to work at a comforting, relaxing rhythm. Only once was the peace broken, and that was when Deidara murmured something along the lines of "It's not a damn duck, you old fart…" and Sasori just continued to work. As long as the brat wasn't talking about him, he was fine.

:-:

Sasori woke Deidara, holding up a few antidotes and bandages as he did so. Deidara glared at them suspiciously.

"…What are those for?" He asked, pointing to the items.

"Your legs are injured, am I correct?" He didn't wait for an answer and forced Deidara to lie back down. As he peeled off the bandages, a foul smell surrounded the room.

"Hm. Infected, aren't they?" Deidara sighed. "This is so stupid. Stupid village, stupid people…" He flinched as Sasori dabbed the slimy antidote onto his wounds.

"Does it hurt?"

"No," Deidara sneered proudly.

"That's not a good thing, brat," Sasori snapped. "You could lose them, and then you won't be much use to us."

"I don't think I've really minded pain. Really," he assured Sasori, "I've been beaten and cut, but I don't think I really minded. It was just the words…"

"Hold still, brat! You're gonna make me mess up." Deidara fell silent as Sasori prodded the wounds with his needle and smeared more of the antidote onto his legs. Finally, he wrapped them tightly with bandages, with enough slack so that the boy could move.

"I'm hungry…"

"No kidding. You haven't eaten for two weeks," the redhead grumbled. "Follow me." He grabbed Deidara's arm and nearly threw him off the bed. His hand was frighteningly cold.

"Hey! I'm not a rag doll, idiot!"

"Hurry up," Sasori grumped. _I have just realized that I'm _stuck _with this brat until he_ dies.

"…Are you okay, Sasori-san? Your hand was awfully cold…" The puppeteer turned towards him slowly.

"You will eat your breakfast and meet me outside in ten minutes." He walked away, oblivious to Deidara's complaints.

"Hey, hey! I don't know where the cafeteria is!"

:-:

After a long while of wandering around in the cave, he finally found what he supposed what the entrance was. The only thing was…he couldn't open it…At least there was a member near by!

"Hey, you! Can you open this door for me?" The tall, raven-haired teen turned. His eyes…were glowing?

"…I cannot."

"Sasori told me to come out to meet him!" The teen hesitated, but performed the appropriate hand seals, which Deidara could not catch as they were performed at an impossible rate. The door grumbled as it grudgingly opened.

"If you do not come back within a day, I will come after you to kill you," the teen said forebodingly.

"Yeah, whatever! Thanks, old man." Suddenly, he was pressed to the wall in a vice like grip. His neck would have surely snapped under the pressure if he had moved.

"Continue, and you will find yourself dead within moments."

"O-of course! See you…?" The teen ignored the boy and walked away abruptly. As soon as Deidara turned to walk outside, he was shoved down to the ground by a ratty puppet, a kunai poised at his only eye. Deidara struggled, trying to get out of the kunai's range.

"You kept me waiting a long time, brat, and I'm a very impatient man," the redhead snapped, walking towards him, his fingertips moving ever so slightly. This caused the kunai to lower uncomfortably close to Deidara's real eye. The puppet was jeering at him, its bulbous eyes rolling in its sockets. "Well?"

"I guess I'm sorry, but I was lost! I didn't have breakfast!" Deidara complained, a bit frightened at this sudden change of attitude.

"Well. Here's your training," Sasori sneered, drawing a girl in front of him by her hair. She gasped, her muddy face tear streaked and crusty with snot.

"…My training?" Deidara asked skeptically, visually prodding the broken girl. His eye had narrowed, a glimmer of blue visible between his lids.

"Kill her," Sasori commanded. The girl quivered.

"Why?"

"Kill her," the man repeated. Deidara didn't like this. Not one bit. When the girl sniveled, Sasori tweaked his fingers so that his puppet was now in a position to launch a poison tipped senbon at her.

"But I—"

"I will not repeat myself. Kill her." He moved away, into the trees leaving the girl. The puppet stood nearby, threatening the girl to move. Deidara's hand had already flown to his clay pouch, and his hand mouths were working slowly. The girl hiccupped. Slowly, ever so slowly, the tongue offered him the glob of clay, which he squeezed several times. He approached the cowering girl, a clay rose in hand.

"Here," he smiled disarmingly, holding the rose out to her like an offering. Sasori looked on with growing interest.

"…Th-thank…you…You're not…a monster…after all…" She smiled sweetly as she took it, and Deidara smiled back, disappearing into the trees, performing the hand seal quickly. Art flooded his senses as the girl screamed, half her face gone.

The stem of the rose still hung in her hand.

Once more Deidara made the seal, watching as the red melded with the brown and grey, little sparks flying and sucking up air. He would have clapped his hands in delight had he not remembered Sasori was there as well.

"Did you know her?" Sasori asked, watching the strange sparks fade and die, the dust and smoke dissipating into the air.

"Perhaps," Deidara mumbled, looking at the remains of her body. "I didn't put enough chakra to clean it up, but that's alright…" he mused.

"Do you even have enough chakra to clean it up?" Sasori pried.

"…"

"Didn't think so. Hurry up and eat, and I'll be changing those bandages."

"Just don't prod them! It looks really weird when you stick a piece of metal in my wound." He was evidently delighted that Sasori had changed back to his more talkative side.

"Who was that girl, Deidara?" It was more of a command than a question. Deidara grinned, the imp he was, and spoke.

"The Tsuchikage's attendant's daughter!" He chirped. Sasori smirked.

"And you killed her because…?"

"She called me a monster," the twinkle was now gone from Deidara's eye. "She was always with the other children, calling me 'monster, monster!' she jeered with them, 'go back to where you belong, don't worry, it won't be long till hell!'." Sasori allowed mild surprise to take over his features.

"…Kids said that? I find that only slightly appalling, of course…because it helps us a great deal," he kneeled down to Deidara's height once they entered the Akatsuki lair. "Would you like to kill them?"

"Of course."

"Well, too bad, unless Leader-sama orders it. It's mission before self, brat."

"I know! Everyone has to tell me that, don't they?"

"Well, if there happens to be a brat in your village you can kill all you want after the mission is completed."

"Is that a promise?" Deidara asked hopefully, already vowing to complete his missions as quickly as possible to try out various brushes and paints on a large canvas.

"No."

:-:

As soon as Sasori walked into the cafeteria with Deidara in tow, the members of Akatsuki turned their heads to observe the new 'girl'.

"Hmm…Kisame, you were wrong!" One man growled, his slicked back hair glistening in the dimly lit room.

"Whaddya mean, _I_ was _wrong_?" The blue shark man, Kisame, sneered.

"She—he—it?!—is _flat_ and…" Deidara choked on his spit. They were talking about him?

"Well, who cares? She's pretty enough and her hair—" Deidara promptly spun around and pushed his hand threateningly into his pouch.

"For your information…_I'm a boy you freaky pedophiles!_"

"And what have you got in that pouch, _boy_?" Deidara stuck out all three of his tongues, surprising the villains as a whole. Sasori appeared with a plate of food, shoving Deidara into a seat next to an old looking, shriveled man.

"Behave yourself, brat," the puppet master growled, slamming a pair of chopsticks on the table.

"Become his mother, have you now, Sasori?" The man sitting next to him had a mask and covered head. His breath rasped and rattled in his chest.

"That is Kakuzu from the waterfall village," Sasori informed Deidara, waving his hand nonchalantly towards the man. He went around the table. "That noisy, Jashin-freak with the white hair is Hidan." The man named Hidan protested noisily. Sasori continued. "One of our youngest members, Uchiha Itachi, heir of the Sharingan." Deidara gulped. He had messed with…_the_ Uchiha Itachi. "The monster of Mist, Kisame." …the pervert… "And finally, Zetsu." A large man, whose body color…did not stay, well, consistent. One half of his body was pure black and the other half a pasty white. He looked like he was stuck in a venus flytrap or something…

"…uh…hi?" Deidara waved his hand once, before realizing that the members were staring at his hand strangely. He tucked his hand away safely underneath his armpits and began to eat his meal of rice, natto fermented soy beans and nori dried seaweed. Once he finished, Kisame spoke up.

"Hey…uh…_kid_, what are those things on your hands?" Sasori watched Deidara from the corner of his eye.

"…Mouths."

"I can see that, but what…_are_ they?"

"I already answered that. Mouths."

"He means," Hidan cut in, "what the…are they for?"

"My weapons," he said shortly before standing up and tossing his plate in the sink.

"Let me spar you," Kisame growled, standing up and pulling up his gigantic sword, holding it near Deidara's head. The wrapped sword started to _pulse_ and _move_. Deidara squirmed, uncomfortable in the face of this living, inanimate thing.

"I cannot," Deidara muttered, offering the same answer that the Uchiha had said earlier. Sasori sat in his seat, like the other members, coolly observing the scene.

"Why not? Is Samehada already wearing you down?" Deidara felt his legs burn and buckle beneath him. He cursed his village once again. The pulsing sword was a hairsbreadth away from his sweating face. "And it makes me wonder, what's behind that mat of hair?"

"_Nothing!_" Deidara roared, his mind wandering back to his father. His _dead_ father. Kisame raised a brow.

"Touchy aren't you, little girl?" Deidara hissed and forced his legs to stand. He pushed the sword out of his way…

Only to have his hand impaled by spikes protruding from the sword. Instead of crying out, like Kisame hoped he would, the boy inspected the gory spectacle of his hand.

Deidara was hoping that his act looked true, that he looked calm on the outside. However, he could feel the blood rising up in his throat, filling his brain with panic, his tongue rolling the blood around and around until the metallic taste made him want to throw up. Quickly, he yanked his hand off the barbs and tried to exit quietly. He didn't make it outside in time.

The sharp taste in his mouth was disgusting, and he choked. Blood was coating both of his hands now, and it was all over the floor. He heard Hidan ask Kisame if he became a follower of Jashin.

"…And if you did, how do you do that without drawing the seal?" Sasori had pulled him up and slung his arm over his neck. He was still coughing up blood, perhaps the worst and longest spell he ever had. He felt Sasori's lips brush his ear has he whispered,

"I told Leader-sama you were useless."

:--::--:

I'm not gonna go around putting curse words in here. I know it is Hidan's character to curse, so I'm just putting '…' in the place of those words. Fill in the blank, if you will. Not all of the '…''s are curses The worse I can bring myself to type is 'damn'. I'm pitiful, aren't I? Well, too bad…

…do sharks have eyebrows?

And uh… Don't kill me. I mean, my computer died…I lost all my stories. I know I could just copy and paste, but I had an almost finished Chapter Three, an almost finished chapter and new story that I lost. And then I entered a state of writers block and depression.

BUT I'm back! Muahaha! Succumb to my crappy plot and writer's block induced writing! I'm done ranting. thank you for reading my story and enduring the long wait.


	4. Chapter 4

…Uh…I'm gonna do something quite illegal in my eyes, anyway.

I'm gonna change Deidara's age from ten to twelve. It was bothering me. So…he's twelve now. ; again, the side affects of depression and writers block.

:-::-::-:

Chapter Four…

The coughing spell finally stopped. Deidara was almost thrown onto his bed, the one with the crimson stain. He inspected his scarlet hands, the nails crusted with black. The metallic smell hit him hard, making him feel ill. He looked around with bleary eyes, finally spotting a rather irritated Sasori. In fact, Sasori didn't look _irritated_, he looked…_furious_.

"I think I have already told you, brat, that I have no patience, correct?" Deidara swallowed his oncoming panic—the usually stoic Sasori now looked at him with smoldering red eyes.

"Yes…you have…un." Deidara's eyes acquired a panicky gleam. _Has Father's soul possessed him?_ Sasori took out a few vials of liquid, snatching Deidara's hand and squirting a few drops on his wound. The boy winced as Sasori inspected it, just as he had with his inflicted legs.

"I have little patience… you ask me if I am ill, create a horrible mess in the front and wound yourself as well as reopening your lungwound. Not only that, but I have to watch over you like a mother! You aren't a child anymore. There is only so much I can take in a day, brat." His hand was still frighteningly cold.

"…Sasori-san, your hand…it…scares me, un." His eyes shot up to Deidara's single one.

"Why is that?"

"It reminds me of Mother's hand, when she was killed." His hand tightened around the boy's, to the point where he yelped.

"…You must learn to keep silent, brat." Deidara looked at him, frightened. His other hand was resting, tense, on the edge of the bed. His hand still gripped the boy's injured one. "Get used to the coldness, brat! There will be dead people surrounding you—cold will be the only thing that will comfort you!"

"S-sasori-san…" He stared at the puppeteer's hand and shuddered. "Are you going to hit me?" The redhead withdrew a bit. "B-because if you want to, I wouldn't mind…much, un.

"Just don't…say anything when you do." Sasori shook his head, mildly surprised.

"Shut up, brat. I won't hit you."

"Aren't you mad?" The boy asked.

"…"

"NevermindSasori-sanI'llgotosleeprightawayun!" The rest came out in a rush. He flopped back onto the pillow, pulling up the covers over his head and pretended to sleep. Sasori shook his head at the boy's innocent stupidity and grabbed the injured hand.

"I haven't finished bandaging it yet, brat." When he finished, he dropped the hand lightly on the mattress and turned to his little 'work corner'. Hiruko was crying out for repairs—he could hear it! He carved the slabs of wood carefully, the rhythmic _scrape, scrape_ of the knife against the wood soothing him. Deidara soon slept peacefully as well.

This kid was going to turn out to be a troublesome boy…

:-:

It had been two days since Deidara had been officially welcomed into Akatsuki. He could now open the accursed doors with his own hands. Thank goodness.

He snuck out of the room he shared with the puppeteer, finding his way to the entrance. He slipped through there as well.

Carefully, he made his way to the nearby river—he couldn't have found it had it not been for the briefing Sasori did for the area. He started to focus the little chakra he had left. Slowly, he stepped onto the water, taking a few steps, stopping to rest every few seconds. He made it halfway to the opposite bank before he felt his energy start to dissipate. He couldn't walk back, he couldn't swim. It was stupid to come outside in the middle of the night to train with infected legs. He fell in with a splash.

Deidara treaded water for while before realizing that he could reach the bottom. Slowly, he walked across the river, clambering up onto the bank. His whole body was sopping wet. Squeezing water out of his hair, he fed one of his hand mouths a bit of clay. Soon a bird hopped in front of him, turning its head side to side and surveying its surroundings. He performed a hand seal, making it grow twice the size of the boy. He hopped aboard, silently ordering it to fly high.

The night breeze slowly dried Deidara off, soothing him at the same time. He didn't like water. Not in the condition he was in. And the old man he was sharing a room with said that if he inhaled any water, that wound in his lungs wouldn't heal. And _then_ he'd be absolutely no use to the organization at all. And they'd have to dispose of him. And find another sadistic child prodigy. And that kid couldn't be annoying.

So many requirements! But that was Akatsuki for you.

"I wonder if Sasori-san likes flying. I wonder if he even appreciates my art…un…" The 'un' hadn't disappeared after that last attack. He still felt the blood in his throat, the taste in his mouth…

The bird squawked once, twice, then three times. They had hit the border of the Akatsuki land. Slowly, reluctantly, Deidara allowed the bird to turn around back to the lair.

:-:

As soon as Deidara stepped in through his room door, Sasori was there, arms crossed and expression berating.

"Sneaking out like a guilty teenager, are we, now? Brat," Sasori snapped, "you can't just go running off like that. If Leader-sama found out—and he probably did—I'm busted."

"Are you mad just 'cause you'll get in trouble and I won't?" Deidara sneered back. "'Cause if that's the case, I'll remember to go out more often, un." He walked to his assigned bed and inspected his bandages. Crap. They were coming off.

"What were you _doing_, brat?" The puppeteer asked, alarmed that his handy work was falling apart. "Don't tell me you were swimming."

"I wasn't, un! I was…was…" Deidara didn't want to tell his partner straight off that he was training. After all, it was supposed to be a surprise…in a way. "Uh…I was riding on my art, a large wind came and my art dived and I fell off into the river! Un!"

"Say that again in a _coherent_ sentence."

"I…was…riding…on…my…master…piece…a…large…wind…came…my…art…dived… and...I…fell…off…into…the…river…un!" He annunciated carefully.

"That made even less sense, brat. Get to bed. Peace and quiet would be nice for once!" Sasori snapped.

"Y-yeah…I…Yeah. Okay. G'night, Sasori-san, un," Deidara grumbled. "…you old fart…"

"May the bedbugs bite," the redhead retaliated. The blonde boy grumbled again, evidently annoyed, facing his back towards Sasori, wrapping himself in his bed sheets. Soon the sheets rose and fell in a rhythmic fashion and Sasori was able to work on Hiruko once more.

:-:

_"You're damn useless, aren't you, boy?" The tall man snapped, snatching the boy's ear and pulling it hard. _

_"I…I…"_

_"You _dropped the bottle_ when you were walking! What kind of damned idiot does that? Apparently this damned freak!" He raised his hand high, bringing it down again and again on the boy's head until it bled._

_"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'll get a new one!"_

_"Get it with your own damned money!"_

_"But…I haven't got any…" The hand came down once more._

_"Then earn it! Earn the—_

"Wake up, dammit! I said, _wake up_, brat!" Sasori nearly shook the poor, dazed boy off the bed.

"…? I…I'll get a new one…I'll earn the money…" Deidara murmured, still half asleep.

"…Brat."

"Wha—? Was I talking in my sleep?"

"I guess you could call that talking."

"Sorry…un."

"You disturbed my working time."

"Well excuse me, un!"

"I would definitely appreciate it if you slept outside tonight. Then I can work in peace." Sleep outside? Well, sure. Fine.

"Alright! Fine! I get it, un! You really hate me for joining this…this _cult_, aren't you? I'm out of here! I'll be out in a second! Just let me get dressed, un!"

:-:

He found himself outside the second time that night. The wind played with the blonde's hair and twisted it around and around. An unknown tear slipped through his closed eyes.

"What…a tear, un? I guess I'm sad…am I sad, my sweet piece of art, un?" His large steed, created in the likeness of a dove, flapped its wings once and ascended a few more feet. "I am? Then I am, un." He buried his face into the sleek, clay scented feathers and sighed. "I'm sad, un. I'm sad, sad…" Another tear. "Yeah, I'm sad, sweet dove. These tears are about as wanted as I am, un." The great dove seemed to sigh and ascended another few feet. "Oh, look, un! The stars are so pretty! I bet…I bet I could touch them, un. Look at the moon! It's…beautiful…un…" Soon, he fell asleep on his gentle steed, the wind still ruffling his hair, and kissing his silent, unwanted tears.

:-:

Slowly, Deidara opened his eyes to the sunrise. He bounced up and down excitedly. Oh…the sunrise was like his art, creeping up above the horizon, its rays of light reaching out to touch everything with its harsh, harsh heat. However, the sunset was prettier. It went out with a bang, as far as he could tell, destroying all color and light and heat.

"Let's head back, un, little dove." The bird obediently made its way back to the lair.

As soon as he stepped through the door, Uchiha Itachi, in all his blind glory, glared daggers at him.

"Where were you?"

"Out," Deidara answered shortly. What was _the_ Uchiha doing out so early?

"Whatever. It is none of my business, except that Sasori-san wants to see you." Joy of all joys.

He headed down to the rooming hallway, opening the third door.

"Late. As usual," the monotone voice announced. Deidara angrily shut the door behind him.

"How would you know? I've only been late once, and you judge me, un?"

"Sit down," Sasori commanded in that strange, quiet voice. But Deidara wouldn't listen.

"No way, Sasori-san. You think you can control me, un. Well, too bad! You can't, un! I don't give a crap about…about…" His tirade faltered as Sasori sat on the ground, gaze unwavering and strict.

"Sit down," he commanded once more. This time, Deidara did. "I am, I think you know, your elder. That means…"

"Are you going to pile responsibility crap on me? 'Cause I won't listen, un!"

"Just…" Sasori twitched violently inwardly, trying to keep calm. "…listen. I want to set guidelines. Extremely simple ones, so you should be able to understand."

"Whatever, un."

"One," Sasori held up one finger, "don't mouth me off. I won't throw you out." Deidara nodded reluctantly. "Two, don't talk to me unless it's important." The boy pouted, but nodded anyway. "Three, listen and obey. That is all."

"What? That's…You'll be practically controlling my life!"

"You'll earn your freedom if you obey these rules. Right now I have to make sure those wounds heal." Deidara grumbled something incoherently. "…Pardon?"

"Nothing. Just…" He trailed off, leaving the thought unfinished.

"It's time for breakfast, anyway. Hurry up, and remember the way," Sasori ordered. _How am I supposed to 'remember the way'?_ Deidara grumbled inside his mind. He followed anyway. Once he entered the 'cafeteria', he found out that Kisame was about to go 'grocery shopping'.

"Oh, hey, kid," Kisame acknowledged Deidara. Then he turned to Itachi. "So, should I go to the Kishomani house to grab our stuff?"

"Ask Leader-sama," came the monotone response. Kisame shrugged and turned to Deidara.

"Yo, kid. I was wondering if you needed anything…special." Deidara flinched.

"I don't want anything from you." Kisame waved his hands in front of his face, obviously disgusted.

"No way! It's just…you're twelve, right?"

"…uhuh…"

"So you should have entered…uh…Hey, Itachi! I'm not good with this stuff."

"You're older than me. You tell him."

"You mean her. Well, whatever. You should have reached…uh…puberty by now," Kisame continued slowly.

"…okay…"

"So, do you _need_ anything?" Sasori sighed and shook his head at Kisame.

"He doesn't know what puberty means, Kisame. And you are still convinced that he's a girl?"

"…Oh. And…yes. So that makes him a her, and he a she."

"…Never mind…" Sasori pulled Deidara to a seat, setting a tray of food in front of him.

"…Gender confused freak…" the boy muttered.

"Nah, its just wishful thinking." Deidara recoiled from Kisame, who was standing next to him.

"I'm not going to ask, un."

"Yeah, you shouldn't, kiddo. He's the king of perverts. He reads Icha Icha Paradise!" The Jashin-freak warned, hoping to get a good reaction from the kid. Anyway, what kid _doesn't_ know about the perverted-ness of Icha Icha Paradise?

Apparently, this kid.

"I've heard about that book. It's fairly popular among adults, isn't it? And isn't it only meant for people ages 20 and up?"

"I'm 24, kid," Kisame snapped. "I can read those books when I want to."

"So, what's it about?"

Silence.

Deep, penetrating silence so thick you had to take an axe to nick it.

Then Itachi snickered.

"Sasori, this kid ain't evil enough," Kisame complained.

"He _isn't_," Sasori corrected the man with a slight smile. "And anyway, I think you mean he _isn't_ _perverted_ enough."

"Uh…Sasori-san? Did you just smile?" Deidara asked with a grin.

"…" The small smile was gone, replaced by a scowl. "It wasn't a real smile. It was an amused smirk."

"And my grandmother has a mustache." Deidara sneered. Then he paused. "I remember your puppet, Sasori-san. It was about as ugly as Kisame, un." He cheered himself on inwardly. Two birds with one stone!

" 'scuse me, lil' guy? His puppet is about as ugly as your butt. Then again, that's not saying much. You have a real cute—" Deidara plugged his ears and started to sing the Iwagakure anthem extremely loud. Sasori stared both of them down to silence.

"I am the art expert here. I say that my puppet crushes both of your looks." Deidara scowled at Sasori.

"Hey, who's side are you on, Sasori no _danna_, un?" He noted Sasori's annoyed look with pleasure. Finally, something to irk that impassive puppet!

:-::-::-:

Back in their room, Sasori watched Deidara sculpt a small bird out of clay, carefully pinching and pulling the substance to create the head and beak.

"I'm assuming your favorite animal is the bird?" Deidara nodded, still intent on his work. "Why? Does it go with your stupid art philosophy, 'art is beautiful and transient'?" Deidara paused in his work, carefully setting down the bird to stare at Sasori for a while. He answered after a while.

"Have you ever seen a hummingbird defend its nest from a bee, Sasori no danna, un?" Sasori cringed at his name, but shook his head all the same.

"Why would I need to observe such a useless thing?"

"Hummingbirds are beautiful, right? They're so small and beautiful; their lives are so short and lively. They seem so gentle, right, Sasori no danna? Un?" the boy persisted.

"I…sure. Why not."

"But they're so fierce, un! Despite their beauty, they're so fierce! They'll attack just like that, un!" Deidara cried, snapping his fingers. "And anyway," he said, settling down a bit, "I'm assuming that _your_ favorite animal is wood, un. All of those _things_ are wood. I suppose it goes along with _your_ stupid philosophy, 'art is everlasting and pure'."

"…wood isn't even an _animal_ you idiot."

"Exactly. That's just how stupid you are, Sasori no danna." Suddenly, the gentle teasing mood of the room was replaced by silent anger. Deidara flinched as Sasori stood up from his place on the ground.

"We need to change those bandages, brat." And so he did, silently and purposefully. Deidara stared at his hand-mouths and waited until Sasori finished the bandaging. As the puppeteer stood up, Deidara muttered,

"Sorry, Sasori no danna. I really didn't mean it." And the redhead just turned his back and continued his work on Hiruko, mutely and meaningfully.

:-::-::-:

I'm just getting deeper into this stupid depression. And writer's block. For goodness sake, it's summer, and I'm depressed! Oo…You know what? Ignore me. I'll write better, promise…maybe.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five…

It was silent when Deidara woke up. He sat up and looked around the room. Sasori wasn't there. Not that he cared.

He stood up and dressed, stepping on his bird that he had finished the other night. He stooped to pick up the crushed clay and molded the pieces back together. Then the boy proceeded to go outside. He glanced at the clock that was mounted on the wall. 12:47 PM. He sighed, not believing that he had slept for such a long time.

Deidara slowly made his way through the halls. There he bumped into Kakuzu.

"Watch where you're going, newbie," the old man warned. "You're gonna piss someone off if you continue like that."

"Sorry. I've already pissed off one old man, so it really doesn't matter," Deidara grumbled. He shoved past the masked man towards the cafeteria.

He paused. What if he found that old puppeteer in the room? Well, it'd be better not to find out. He turned around towards the front door.

Once the boy was out, he headed towards the river. There, he washed his face and started to collect chakra at the bottom of his feet.

"…Brat." Deidara's concentration snapped and he yelped, jumping high into the air. Once he landed he crouched in a defensive position. Then he spotted Sasori. The redhead was smirking, evidently because of the scene he had just witnessed.

"W-what, un?"

"You aren't supposed to be anywhere near water in the healing process."

"…" Deidara was looking away.

"You could hurt yourself, and then you'd be no use to us. I've already explained it to you," Sasori continued.

"…" Now the boy was scowling.

"We could train somewhere else."

"…" Now he was grimacing, his face contorted with sadness, pain and anger. Sasori analyzed all of these actions and stayed silent, waiting for the boy to explode.

"I…I hate you." It was quietly spoken. Deidara avoided eye contact. "You…you're trying to be someone you'll never be. And I'll just hate you and the others more and more."

"And who am I trying to be?"

"This…This will sound stupid…but…you're trying to act like Mother." As he finished his sentence, his face grew hard and angry. "But you can't. You can't! Because she…

"You just can't." He finished angrily. It only made him angrier when he didn't receive a reaction from the redhead. Sasori nodded, waiting for him to continue. "And if that Kakuzu says that you act like my mother, then I'll…" Deidara trailed off.

"Go on."

"I'd…die." Sasori nodded, inwardly interested. "'Cause…you're just not like her, un. So don't try to be like her. She was…one of a kind. You're not!" He spat.

"Have you forgotten last night? You tried my patience once; I do not like it that you try it once more," Sasori growled, making it clear that he did not like to be insulted. Deidara looked away once again.

"I…sorry. I didn't mean it. Honest!" He cried when Sasori moved away.

"…"

"Really, Sasori no danna. I didn't. I really, honestly, truly didn't. Please stay…please…" he pleaded, his face contorting into a pout.

"…"

"I…I wasn't thinking! It's just…It's just…" Sasori rolled his eyes in an exaggerated fashion, easing himself next to the boy on the ground.

"Whatever," he muttered as he looked at a passing bird. That was Sasori. If something made him uncomfortable, he passed it off as 'whatever'.

"Sasori no danna…" The boy said suddenly. Sasori didn't answer, but he was listening. "Why'd you stay with me?"

"…You asked me to," Sasori said blandly.

"But…uh…Why did you even listen to me?" Deidara asked, quirking his head to the side.

"…I'm not good with little kids that pout," the puppeteer admitted reluctantly.

"Oh." Silence reigned for a few minutes, while Deidara kept his fingers busy with clay. Then,

"Sasori no danna."

"What?" He asked impatiently.

"I didn't mean it when I said you were stupid. You're a lot smarter than a lot of people I knew," the boy murmured.

"…I know."

"You did? Then why were you mad?" Deidara asked, his face beginning to contort into a frown.

"…I'm not patient," was the simple, and overused, answer.

"I know that! _I know that_!" The boy shouted. "Give me a real answer, danna, un! I feel so stupid when you just keep on repeating the same answer as if I'm daft! I hate being called stupid…you know that, don't you, danna?" Deidara stopped ranting to look at Sasori. The puppeteer was seemingly staring off into space, as if he hadn't heard a thing. Deidara sat down bashfully and muttered, "Never mind…I knew you wouldn't care anyway." He was aware of Sasori shifting to a more comfortable position beside him, but he stretched out and watched a few birds dance with each other, completely ignoring the redhead.

"…I have forgotten how to organize my emotions." Deidara propped himself up on his arm to look at his danna.

"Pardon, un?"

"I was not mad. I just don't know which emotion is the correct one to use." The boy looked skeptic as he eased himself back down to the ground.

"Ri-i-i-ight. Answer a question for me, Sasori no danna, will you, un?" He plowed ahead even though he received no answer. "How old are you, really?"

Silence reigned for a few minutes before the redhead decided to answer.

"Forty-three," came the monotone response. He expected the boy to recoil in horror, to gasp or something to that affect, but instead…

He was silent.

The boy was politely silent, carefully sculpting another bird with his thin fingers.

Finally, he responded with a quiet, "I thought so," and continued sculpting.

Sasori could name several flaws with the bird, but, as he studied the boy, he realized that Deidara was sculpting with his eyes closed.

"Why do you work like that?" The puppeteer inquired.

"Hmm? This?" He asked, lifting up his almost complete creation. "Oh, it's just a piece of trash, un. I do this on habit." With that, he cupped it in his palms and promptly destroyed it. "Art is a bang, un," the boy whispered to the mess of clay. Then he lay back down again and began to sculpt a different bird.

Sasori took sliced a chunk of wood out of a log with a kunai. Then he began to carve.

"Brat," he said, "I meant what I said. I cannot feel. It has been so long since I have joined this organization. Twenty years," he sighed, "twenty years of killing and assassinations and murders and deaths. It numbs you, brat. You cannot feel after a long while." Slowly, the boy nodded.

"Answer another question, Sasori no danna?" The puppeteer sighed, but nodded his consent. He put down his carving. "Why was your hand so cold?" He reached out and carefully took the redhead's hand in his own. "No…Why are they so cold?" He looked at Sasori with those big cerulean eyes, those deep pools of knowledge and innocence.

"…It is none of your business, brat…"

"You said you'd answer, un. Answer, Sasori no danna."

Silence.

Then the puppeteer carefully rolled up his sleeves, revealing a ball joint instead of an elbow. Deidara leaped back a few centimeters. Sasori pretended not to notice.

Then he rolled up his pants, which showed another ball joint instead of a knee. Where his skin should have been, there were only segments of pieced together wood.

"I am a puppet, brat. Therefore…

"I am immortal and painless. To me, there is no such thing as emotions, feeling or pain."

The boy gulped and looked at his hands. They grinned back at him deviously.

"My hands are so disgusting," he growled, and shoved them in his pockets. "Whenever I tried to make friends, they'd leave me. Just 'cause of these…stupid…_things_!" He shouted the last part before realizing that his eyes were watering a bit. "Your puppet jutsu is beautiful. Different, but beautiful. Turning yourself into your own art. But mine…" He scowled, "It's just monstrous. I'm tired of being called a monster. Sasori no danna?"

"What?"

"Please don't call me a monster. Please don't let anyone call me a monster. I hate it, and you know that…you know that being called a monster isn't…isn't…pleasant."

Still no response. Deidara shrank within himself. _Perhaps he doesn't like me at all. Perhaps I really am just a brat. Perhaps…_

"Okay." That was all. A monosyllable response. However, that was all it took to please the boy.

"R-really, un? Promise?" Sasori looked away. _Don't ever ask for promises, Deidara. They're bound to be broken._

"Yeah. Promise."

:-::-::-:

"Yo, kiddo. Where'd you warp off to?" Kisame asked as soon as the duo walked through the door.

"Why do you care?" He snapped.

"You missed lunch. And," Kisame hesitated, scrutinizing the boy's body, "you're pretty skinny." Deidara tsked and turned away, his face red.

"Kisame," Sasori called, catching the fish man's attention, "it makes me wonder why you notice those kinds of things. For instance, with Itachi…"

"Shut up, Sasori. You don't need to remind me." Deidara looked at Kisame with wide eyed wonder.

"What happened, Sasori no danna?"

"That can wait for later, brat," Sasori answered, casually turning away. "We're going Kisame. Nice seeing you. Come on, brat." Kisame stared at the duo as they walked off. Was Sasori being nice? Sarcastic? Or just downright insulting? It was too much for the poor man, so he dismissed the thoughts and set out to find Itachi.

:-::-::-:

"Sasori no danna? What happened with Kisame and Itachi, un?" The puppet…yes, the puppet smirked in amusement.

"It happened when he was drunk. He told Itachi that he was too 'inexperienced'. The day after, we…elaborated the story and effectively created a way to shut him up."

"That's…smart, un," the boy allowed, trying to figure out in what way Itachi was inexperienced. He noted that Sasori's eyes were trailing up and down his skinny frame.

"Although, it is true. You are scrawny for your age," he commented seriously. "Let's see how much you weigh." They (Deidara was more dragged than anything) headed towards their bathroom.

"What? So now you're my doctor?" He allowed himself to be pulled along anyway.

When they finally made the long hike back to their room, Sasori pointed to the scale in the bathroom.

"Stand on it and tell me the numbers after it evens out a bit."

"I know how to work a scale, Sasori no danna, un," the boy snapped. He stepped on the platform and read…

30 kg (about 68 pounds). Sasori shook his head.

"You're how tall?"

"149 centimeters (about 4' 11")" He recited automatically. Sasori shook his head once more.

"That's dangerously low. In addition to your lungs…"

"Shut up! I'm fine!" Deidara snapped. He was scowling and curling his hands into fists. "It's not my fault I couldn't eat…much…un…" He coughed, and for a split second Sasori thought that his coughing fits had come back.

"I think you need to eat."

"Whatever." Deidara headed off to the kitchen. He was planning to, anyway.

:-::-::-:

After Deidara had finished eating, he ran back to the room he shared with Sasori to grab some more explosive clay. As he rummaged through his bag, a small slip of paper fell out of it. He picked it up cautiously and turned it over.

It was a picture of him and his mother.

"What's this doing in here, un?" She was the only one that didn't call him a monster. She was…an amazing person, to say in the least.

That's what Father said when he used to be sane.

Amazing.

Beautiful.

Strong.

Then, after he started to drink, he cursed her 'pretty, pale, slutty face'. Once, he turned to Deidara and said, "Your face resembles hers. You're about as useful as a girl—you might as well be one with your looks!" A punch. "I'll spoil those pretty boy looks! I told that slut I wanted a boy!" A kick. "Not a…girl!" And with one palm attack, he had smashed Deidara's head against the wall. The boy couldn't see for a few days after.

Deidara had instinctively covered his mouth in case of a coughing attack. It didn't come. But he had cried out from the memory.

_Forget the past._

_Be done with it. It hurts, hurts so bad you want to cry. So, kill the past. Kill it. _

_It hurts…it hurts…_

_**It hurts**__…_

_Right here. Right…__**there**_

_So kill it. Mangle it. __**Destroy **__it and…_

_Forget it._

:-::-::-:

The boy took the photo. Ripped it. Tore it in half. Still his mother was smiling, although separated from her son.

"You don't care about me. You never did. Look," he waved the other half, the one he was in, "you keep smiling. I'm _leaving_. I'm leaving you and you don't care. I'll hate you with my life. I'll hate and hate. It'll feed me, feed me so I won't need you or your pseudo love!" He took her half, ripped it again. Still her face smiled at him kindly. "You…_You're taunting me!_" The boy screamed, throwing her picture across the room. He was breathing hard, one tear slipping from his eye. "It's because of you that Father hated me. It's all your fault.

"He hated me because of you. In turn, I'll hate you. Me plus you…" he laughed brokenly, "equals hate. Add Father…

"Me plus you plus Father equals…

"**Pain**."

:--::--::--:

I know I make Deidara a cry baby, but he's twelve. He's gone through traumatic experiences with no one to help him through them. You can only act strong for a set amount of time before you snap and you have to tell someone. And anyway, I'm trying to make him sweet and sadistic. I love sweet, sadistic kids.

But if his naïve-ness bothers you, review or PM me. Then again, constructive criticism is always nice…[hint hint.

And it seems I didn't have a particular aim for this chapter. So if it seems kinda jumpy and disconnected, I really am sorry. School's starting in a freakin' **week** so I have been a bit jumpy as well.

Deidara's weight, in this chapter, puts him below the 5 percentile, meaning he is drastically underweight. [My brother, 18, is 5' 8" and is 110 lbs. It's depressing. He, as well, is below the 5 percentile.

I hope Deidara isn't going to be killed by Sasuke…then again, Sasuke's a 'main character', and uber strong. –sigh- okay, so I hope that I can cope with Deidara's impending death.

Much love to all my reveiwers and watchers and readers!


	6. Chapter 6

Okay! Note! When there is a "blah … blah" that person has just cursed. This: "blah…blah" is not a curse. Use your imagination! Onward!

:--::--::--:

Chapter Six…

Sasori found the boy on the ground of their room, turning a piece of paper around and around in his hands. On his face there was a single wet trail from his existing eye to his chin. The redhead approached the boy carefully—he was moody, and when Deidara was moody, no one shall know peace.

"Brat," he said quietly. Deidara continued to ignore him, turning the piece of paper around and around. Sasori reached the boy and kneeled down so they were face to face.

"May I?" He reached towards the paper between the boy's fingers. Deidara paused, then slowly released his hold on it, dropping it lightly into Sasori's palm. He didn't look up once. The puppeteer inspected the paper. It was, in fact, a picture. It was the face of a woman—fine blonde hair hung loosely on her shoulders, large cerulean eyes piercing and wise. Her face was fine and pale, lips curving in a gentle smile, as if saying "Everything's alright".

Sasori spotted other pieces of paper around the boy. He hesitated, glanced at his partner, then proceeded to pick up the pieces.

He easily pieced the picture back together. Her body, thin, frail and womanly. Then there was her arm. It was wrapped around a small boy, five years old, perhaps. He was the spitting image of her—blonde hair, blue eyes, fine, pale face. His face held an impish, childish proud grin, as he was holding up a sculpture of a dove. You could see clearly—it was a dove. Even at that age, he was skillful with his hands.

The puppeteer regretted he hadn't been there when she had died. She would have made a beautiful and deadly puppet.

Sasori looked at Deidara once again. The boy was limply staring at his grinning hands. He wasn't even holding clay between his fingers.

Instinct told the redhead to reach out and comfort him. But his head said otherwise. _What would I comfort him with? "She was beautiful while she lasted"? Does he even want to be comforted?_ He watched the boy stand up slowly and slip his clay pouch over his slim shoulders. Then he exited the room, leaving to train and brood by himself. Sasori shrugged and advanced on his nearly complete Hiruko. A few more days and he'd be complete once again.

:-::-::-:

Deidara trudged his way outside, carefully fingering the gooey, slimy material that jiggled in his bag. As it is, he had no idea why he had brought his clay bag. It was his taijutsu that was failing, not his art! He must have brought it along out of habit or just for comfort…

He found one of the many training grounds scattered around the Akatsuki base. It was the oldest, as well as the farthest from the base. The logs were worn and smooth, the targets were dotted with holes until you couldn't tell red from white and the dirt was fine and wispy. However, weeds were beginning to crawl back from various spots on the ground, the logs were starting to sag from termites and the targets were fading. Deidara scoured the grounds for a large, firm log. Finally, after venturing a bit further into the forest, he found a newly fallen log. He decided he could smooth out the bottom once he had dragged it back to the training grounds.

After a while, the boy had finally dragged the log back. His arms and hands were raw and pink. Setting one end in his lap, he took out a kunai and began to whittle away the knots and lumps on it.

An hour later he had smoothed out the end, and proceeded to mark a hole in the ground. He used a kunai to mark a circle in the dirt, about a foot and a half in diameter, and to scratch off the top layer of sand. Deidara loosened the dirt within the ring and scooped it out with his hands. The gloves on his hands allowed him to work without worrying about a pebble lodged between his hand mouths' teeth.

Soon, when the hole was about a foot deep, he took the log (which was a good three feet long) and dragged it in the hole. He packed the excess sand tightly around the base and inspected his handiwork. He pushed it. Kicked it. Kicked it harder. Jumped, dealt an axe kick. It didn't budge. Deidara smirked and set himself into the basic fighting stance.

Basic drill one. _Damn, it's been a while since I've done these._

Move forward. Block. Left punch, right punch. Move backwards. Front kick.

Again—reverse.

Backwards. Front kick. Forward. Block. Left, right.

He was already sweating. He bared his teeth and hissed.

Basic drill two.

Forward. Left punch—midriff. Block. Left punch, right punch. Backwards. Roundhouse.

Again! Reverse. He was gritting his teeth in determination.

Backwards. Roundhouse—

_**Crack!**_

Deidara fell with a cry. He clutched his right leg, rocking back and forth. He felt fresh blood run over his sweaty skin, coating his fingers. Sasori had taken off the bandages a few days ago…The scabs had been torn off completely, leaving his right leg literally skinned.

He continued to hiccup and sob quietly. He slowly pried off his fingers, hissing as air swept over the fresh wound. Fingering his bag with quivering fingers, he managed to bring out his medic kit. The boy rinsed his hands in water from his canteen, dipping his fingers in salve to smear it over his wound. He bit his tongue as it skimmed the tender skin. Then he smeared the rest on, trying to get it over with as quickly as possible.

The bandages Deidara had just put on were already starting to absorb the blood. He stood up, dragging his right foot behind him. Using the trees as support, the boy managed to make his way back to the base. He squinted up to the sky—it was orange-red, tinges of purple staining the scene.

Deidara stuck his hand inside his clay pouch, quickly making a bird. He let it hop around to explore its surroundings for a while before making a hand seal. It grew—not nearly twice as tall as the boy, but twice as long. He hopped aboard and silently ordered it to the base.

The wind whistled past his ears as his creation soared above the forest. He felt free. Freedom. All the pain, anxiety and fear were thrown into the wind, to be forgotten temporarily.

His art had descended next to the base, and Deidara dismissed it with a hand seal. It disappeared. He slowly entered the building…er, cave, and looked around.

There was…Kisame and Itachi. They looked as if they were about to leave.

"Hey there, pretty boy!" When had this nickname stuck? Stupid fish-man.

"What, un?" Deidara snarled. "What did you just call me?"

"Uh…Pretty boy?" He would have surely been kicked by the boy, if his leg wasn't injured. And it didn't help that Leader-sama had forbidden any explosives inside the premises.

"I…_Hate_ your … guts, un," the boy growled. Kisame held up his hands.

"Hey, hey! It's just a joke. And, uh…" he scratched his head, "I don't think you should be using that kind of language."

"Shut…shut up, fishy, un." Kisame held hands over his heart in mock hurt.

"Oh, the pain!" In a flash, he was behind Deidara, the pulsing sword in front of the boy's face. Deidara couldn't jump backward—he'd be touching Kisame. He couldn't move forward—his face would be speared to bits. So he scowled and spat on Kisame's hand. The sword moved closer.

"Want to call me that again, _pretty boy_?" Deidara scowled some more and stayed put.

"Kisame," the raven haired teen called, "it's time to go." Kisame made a noise in his throat—a noise of disappointment.

"Fine…pushy, pushy!" He turned to Deidara, sneered, and whispered, "I can't believe I'm being bossed around by a 13 year-old." Then he left with Itachi.

A sharp pang traveled through Deidara's leg, reminding him of the fresh wound. He dragged his way back to the room he shared with Sasori.

As he pushed the door open, he was met with a soft _scrape, scrape _of knife against wood. Light flooded into the dark room and the puppeteer looked up.

"…? Deidara? What are you doing back so soon?" He asked as politely as he could. Good grief, it was supposed to be his _quiet time_ right now! Just him and his beloved works of art!

"Sasori no danna," Deidara complained, proving that he had not heard the question. "Why's it so dark in here, un? I can't see a thing!"

"What happened to your leg?" The boy paused and looked down. That's right—his leg.

"Oh, that. I…uh…" _Crap. He's gonna be pissed if he knew I ruined my leg again…_ "…It…uh…One of my birds flew too close…and…uh…yeah, un."

"Only your leg was injured in the explosion?"

"S-sure. I mean, yeah, un."

"…Is it still bleeding?"

"Yeah. I mean…" Crap. Again. He's caught…

"No burn?"

"Sasori no danna!" Deidara pleaded. "Stop interrogating me, un!"

"…Get over here." The boy complied. "Get on the bed," he ordered, pointing to the bed. Carefully, Deidara sat down and swung his legs onto the mattress. Sasori peeled off the bandages and frowned.

"Why weren't you wearing your leg guards?" Deidara grimaced. Sasori could tell what happened from just one glance.

"I…forgot."

"Apparently!" Sasori snapped. The boy looked slightly put off. "There they are, right on your bedside table! You're such a careless brat."

"S-sorry, danna."

"Why were you training with an oak log?" Deidara blinked. He didn't even know it mattered what kind of log he used, just as long as it wasn't brittle.

"I…Don't know."

"Tch," Sasori held up a small shard of wood. "This is how I know. Oak. It's strong, but you didn't even it out, did you?"

"I evened out the ends!" Deidara said defensively.

"That's good. But you need to get rid of the bark." He prodded the wound for more shards. Deidara yelped.

"Ow! Hey, be careful, un! That hurts!" Sasori drew out another splinter.

"Be grateful, brat, that I'm taking time to take out these pieces. I could just leave 'em."

"Yeah, I know, un. Ow!" He exclaimed as Sasori dragged an exceptionally longer piece out of his leg. He put it on a towel where the rest of the splinters resided.

"I've gotten all the splinters that I could get out. Here," he said, offering a chopstick to Deidara, "this is going to hurt really bad." The boy watched in fearful wonder as Sasori took out another tube of antiseptic.

"Uhh…Sasori no danna…I already cleaned it, un."

"No, you didn't." He waved to the pile of splinters. "What about the places where the wood was? Now, put that in your mouth and keep it there," he ordered, referring to the chopstick.

"No way! I'm gonna end up with a mouthful of wood, un!" Sasori sighed, and glared at Deidara. The boy grinned sheepishly and obediently shoved it between his teeth. Sasori took a clean bandage and smeared the antiseptic all over it. Then he set it on Deidara's leg. The boy's eye widened considerably, and they started to water.

"Don't cry on me, brat." He started to rub the antiseptic in the wound. Deidara bit down on the chopstick hard. _Holy crap…this hurts like hell!_

The stick snapped in half.

"Agh!" He cried, spitting out shards of wood. Sasori sighed, wrapped his leg in bandages and tucked the end in.

"Stupid brat. You're really weak, aren't you?" Deidara shrank away from the puppeteer and his harsh words.

"Y-yeah. I am," the boy agreed out of habit. His eyes were wide and haunted. "I'm so stupid that…that you could hit me and hate me and…and I wouldn't know that…that you hated me! I'm stupid, un!" He blabbered, covering his head with his arms.

_"Stupid god-forsaken bitch!" __**Whack! **__"You're useless!" __**Whack! **__"You're a pathetic brat!" __**Whack! **__"You can't do anything right! You can't make it as a shinobi! You'll die like all the other bastards out there! You're weak like your __**mother!**__" __**Whack! Crack! **_

_A long wail, a sharp crack…then silence._

The memories came hard and fast. The figure curled on the bed shuddered.

"Shut up, brat."

Deidara looked up fearfully, his arms growing limp by his sides. "I…I'm…I'm stupid…"

Sasori slapped the boy across the cheek. The boy looked at the redhead in wonder…It didn't hurt.

"Shut up, brat." He said in the same even tone, but his eyes showed that he wasn't quite sure of himself…if he had done the right thing. "I don't want to hear that from you again. This constant putting down of yourself doesn't allow you to improve as a nin. You have to keep on improving in order to survive as an S-class nin. Do you understand me?" Deidara nodded slowly, feeling inferior to the being before him. "Say it. Say you understand me."

"Yes…I understand," he squeaked. Sasori drew back.

"That's good." Then he returned to his work. Deidara sighed and flopped back onto his bed. Then his stomach growled.

"Uh…I'll go grab some dinner. See ya, un."

:-::-::-:

Deidara had just polished off three bowls of rice and miso soup when Hidan walked in. The silver haired man didn't seem to see the boy—just walked right past him, scooping up bowls of soup and rice from the pantry.

"Ugh… Old soup and rice. What a delicacy," he grumbled, plopping into the seat next to Deidara.

"Uh…Hi, Hidan-san, un." Hidan looked up from his rice.

"Eh? Oh, the new kid." He stared thoughtfully at the boy.

"Is…there something on my face?"

"No…no…It's just that…Hmm…" Deidara was fed up with the 'hmm's and 'I think's.

"Just tell me already, un!" Hidan sighed.

"I think I offered a girl that looked like you up to Jashin-sama a … while ago."

"Pardon? 'Offered'? Jashin?"

"Jashin-_sama_," he corrected with a stern face. "Treat your superiors with … respect."

"Just answer my questions, un," Deidara demanded, impatience clearly scrawled on his face.

"Offered? As in, you know, sacrifice?" The boy blinked slowly. "Jashin, as in the Almighty One! The one who deals out … punishment! We must atone to him…through…"

"Through?"

"Through … _blood_." Deidara raised an eyebrow. "We're all just … godless heathens running around loose. That is, everyone 'cept me and my fellow believers."

"So…who was this…girl?" Hidan fell silent.

"Uh…I don't remember, kiddo."

"You're lying," Deidara accused. The silver haired man frowned.

"Yeah, I am. It isn't good for the … record, either." He ran his fingers through his hair agitatedly. "Do you really wanna know that … bad, kiddo?"

"Stop calling me that," Deidara snarled. Then he continued. "And…yes. I do want to know."

"What—you had a girlfriend like that or somethin'?" Deidara looked away.

"I dunno. Maybe." He shrugged nonchalantly.

"Whaddya mean 'I dunno'? You gotta know who your … friends are!"

"You're avoiding the question, Hidan-san." The man sighed again and glared at the boy.

"Geez. You're so … persistent, kiddo."

"Shut up and tell me, un!"

"You just … canceled out what you … said." The blonde visibly twitched.

"Hidan-san…"

"Alright, I get it. But…You're not gonna like it. I guarantee that. Also…" he smirked. "I get a bit…twisted when I talk about…blood."

"…Okay…"

"Well…" Hidan took a deep breath, calming himself. "She was from your village—Iwagakure."

"W-what, un?" Hidan continued, ignoring the boy.

"She was a quite a bit older than you…about 10 years old."

"But…"

"She was … pretty. Her hair—it was blonde—was nice…but…"

"But?"

"Her eyes were stunning. They begged to be redeemed! I talked to her…she was so sweet and innocent. And you know what, kiddo?" Hidan started to grin.

"…"

"She asked me to kill her! Yeah, she asked me! A willing nonbeliever—willing to accept there's a higher being! Then, you know what happened next?"

"N-no…" The sadistic man frightened Deidara. He wanted this over and done with as soon as possible.

"She asked me to do something for her, before she asked for death. She asked me to stop her father from hurting…" Hidan started to laugh.

"Hurting who? Who?"

"Ooh…Wouldn't you love to know? Fine," he consented, "these were her exact words.

"'Save my little brother. Father's hurting him. My little brother, who hasn't done a thing. And every night, my brother cries and cries and cries. Father beats him and beats him, all without a care.'" Deidara began to scoot away from the man. "There's still more!" Hidan cackled. "'After Mother left, Father hasn't been himself and takes his anger all out on the boy. I can't do a thing.'

"That sound familiar, kiddo?" The boy shook his head vigorously, trying to ward away the words. "No? How about this? '_His name is Deidara_'."

:--::--::--:

Oh my freaking gosh. I've created some weird background info for Deidara. I shouldn't have added in this new character.

Like it? Love it? Hate it? Tell me, please! Critical eyes appreciated!


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven…

"That's not true, Hidan-san." Deidara was shaking, trying hard to stop.

"Hey…I'm sorry, kiddo. It's all part of the code, killing and all, you see. But…If we didn't kill off people, no one would go to heaven. Everyone would just go to hell. Blood is the payment to cover up our misdoings. And she realized it and gave herself up willingly." He stopped preaching for a second—realized that the boy was now an emotional wreck.

"I don't even remember her face! How could I have a sister? You lied—you made it all up! I don't remember her! I don't! I don't! I can't!"

"Calm down, kiddo. If she had lived to be a bit older, then you would have remembered her."

"Then…then you killed her." Hidan shrugged.

"I don't like doing this. But she asked me. So…technically, I didn't kill her. She asked to be killed."

"Whatever. You can have my dinner, un."

"Oh, thanks!" Deidara stood to leave and dragged his foot all the way to the entrance of the kitchen. "Wait, kiddo." He turned to face the man.

"What?"

"I wasn't lying. I remember her, clear as anything," he assured the boy. His face was grave and serious. "Death isn't something to be dealt with lightly. I don't joke about death. Or Jashin-sama."

"I…I understand, un." He was dizzy and needed to lie down. "Thanks, un."

"No prob," Hidan acknowledged with a wave of his chopsticks.

In the hallway, a wave of nausea swept over the boy.

"It isn't true…isn't true…isn't true…" He bumped into something hard and warm.

"What a greeting! I'm happy to be back here." _Oh damn. Not him…_

"G-get away from me, un!" Cried an alarmed Deidara. Oh no, not the fish-man.

"Why? You're the one that hugged me!" Kisame sneered. "What, you didn't like the first one?"

"Agh! Go away!" _The last thing I wanted to see was this guy! _He was caught, large, blue arms encircling his thin frame. "H-hey! Get _off!_" He swung his legs and hit it right where 'the sun don't shine'. Kisame immediately let go of the boy, bending in half, panting for air.

"Holy … … that hurt! Get back here you … !" Deidara grimaced at the sudden onslaught of words. He had been called a 'female dog' too many times for his liking in his life. "Hey pretty boy!" Deidara stopped in mid step, a vein revealing itself on his sweaty forehead. "Yeah you! Get back here!" The boy turned and started to walk towards Kisame. He grinned at the man who was still in severe pain and raised his good leg and swung.

Ouch.

Twice in the same spot…not a walk in the park.

He left the man lying on the ground, blasphemies following him around the corridor until he hit his room. As soon he closed the door behind him, he saw Sasori carefully working on the shell of Hiruko. Sasori looked up and saw the haunted and pleased look clashing in the boy's eyes.

"What happened, brat?"

"Nothing, un," Deidara said nonchalantly.

"I'm pretty sure that was Kisame shouting those things. You know explosives aren't allowed in the premises."

"You're too shrewd for your own good, Danna," Deidara complained. Then he continued. "I accidentally ran into Kisame. He tried to hug me, and I kicked him. Then he told me, 'come back, Pretty Boy' and so I did and kicked him again." He was evidently satisfied in what he had done.

"…There?" Sasori asked incredulously.

"Yeah, there." Deidara looked fairly satisfied with what he had done.

"I think…you need to apologize. He won't be able to walk straight for a few weeks if you've injured _that_." Deidara scowled.

"No way, Danna. He _violated_ me, un! I told him to get off and he hugged me!" He shuddered. "I have Kisame germs on me now!"

"…" Sasori looked up from his work, sandpaper in hand. "That's…an elementary way of saying it…" Deidara grinned. So did his hands. He took out a piece of clay and sat down next to Sasori.

"Brat," Sasori said suddenly. Deidara looked up. "Those hands of yours…do they need special care? Extra food or anything like that? Can they talk?" The boy began the laugh.

"Sasori no danna! I didn't know you were that stupid, un!" He immediately stopped in horror, just realizing what he had just said. However, the puppeteer looked a little amused himself.

"Well? What kind of cares do they need?"

Deidara began to grin again. "Extra food, Danna? Are you crazy? They don't have any intestines—they're a part of me, un. My energy is what keeps 'em alive! And who ever said they had a larynx? They can't talk, they can't hear. They do what I tell 'em to do, un. They just need to have their teeth brushed once in a while to keep them healthy." He grinned at the clay in his hands, while Sasori resumed his work.

Suddenly, the boy's mirth disappeared.

"Sasori no danna…" The puppeteer slowed his movements, indicating he was listening. "Did I…have a sister?" Sasori stopped moving completely.

"How would I know, brat?" Deidara frowned.

"Hidan-san said…Hidan-san said he killed my sister. So maybe…maybe…you know who he killed?" Sasori frowned.

"Did he tell you what she was like?"

"He said…He said she had beautiful eyes and…long blonde hair…like this color." He pointed to his head. "That's all I know…"

Sasori was silent. Not like his usual, 'shut up, I'm thinking of how to say this' silent, but an…ominous sort of silent. Deidara prodded the redhead carefully.

"…Danna?"

"It's nothing." He turned back to sanding Hiruko's plating. Deidara stared hopelessly at the puppeteers back.

"You know something, Danna."

The puppeteer denied that he knew anything. "Whatever Hidan does between his 'god' and him, stays between him and his 'god'."

"Danna, you know something, un."

_Damn his perception skills…_ "So what if I did?"

"Tell me, un," he ordered.

"Well…he never told me a thing. So drop the subject and rest."

_Damn his emotionless face!_ "Fine. Night, Danna." He slipped under the covers, not bothering to brush his teeth, and closed his eyes.

:-::-::-:

After tossing and turning for half an hour, Deidara groaned and sat up abruptly. He was tired, yet…restless.

"I hate this feeling!" He complained aloud. Sasori appeared from the corner of his eye, a brush in hand.

"Be quiet, brat. I'm trying to work, and this coat is the most important step of all."

Deidara crept over to the puppeteer's side. "May I watch?" Sasori glared at him incredulously. "Er…quietly?"

Sasori nodded his consent and dipped his brush into a large can of clear liquid.

"This is to protect the wood from the weather, to keep it from eroding and fissuring," the redhead informed the boy, knowing full well that Deidara was curious. He slowly coated the wood with the liquid, making it shine in the lamplight.

It was a slow process which obviously bored the boy. But he had promised to be quiet, so quiet he was. Finally, Sasori set Hiruko aside and stood up. He shook the dozing boy awake.

"Get to sleep. It's late."

"Huh…? Whazzuh…?" He scrubbed his eyes with his palms, squinting up at the puppeteer. Sasori offered a hand to the boy. Deidara took it and pulled himself up.

"It's late."

The boy nodded dazedly, groping his way to his bed. "G'night, Sasori no danna…" It was quiet for a long while, and Sasori believed the boy was asleep. However, "Danna."

"What now?"

"What's your favorite bird, un?"

Sasori thought for a moment. "Why?"

"Birds are something to be appreciated, Danna."

"…"

"I'm waiting…!"

The redhead sighed and answered grudgingly. "The barn owl."

"Why?"

"What has gotten into you, brat?" He asked, relieved that Deidara did not think ill of his choice.

"Just answer, Danna, please, un."

"Owls are usually depicted as wise, decrypt and cunning creatures. They use their head. And anyway, they…are fairly graceful. Their wings and color…Their prey do not know what is upon them until they are dead. Is that good enough?"

"Mmkay, Danna. Thanks."

"Is this a survey, brat?"

There was no answer from the boy. Soon after, his soft snores filled the room.

Sasori looked at the boy, making sure that he was asleep. Then he stood up and made his way to a small crevice in the wall next to his bed. He performed a few hand seals. A doorway appeared, the stony surface grumbling and groaning. He entered it and sealed the doorway.

Inside, he lit a lamp that hung from the ceiling. It illuminated many bodies and pieces of wood, all in neat piles of unknown categories. He headed towards what looked to be a coat rack and looked inside.

In between a hairy, bulbous man and a sickly looking teen hung a petite girl.

Her hair was golden, and her clear blue eyes expressed what no other eyes could. She was, seemingly, the only one of her kind.

With the exception of Deidara.

:-::-::-:

Deidara awoke to a throbbing pain in his leg. He scowled and peeked under the bandages. It wasn't infected, but the damage looked…well, ugly.

"Here are the things you need to dress that wound. I have things to attend to." Sasori dumped the materials onto the boy's bed. He stared into the tuft of hair that kept his eye hidden.

"Okay…see you, then," Deidara said. The puppeteer swept out of the room without a word.

"…Eww…" Deidara moaned as he poked the sticky antiseptic. He sighed, pulled off the bandages and set to work.

:-::-::-:

The boy had been working on a little sculpture for a while before his stomach rumbled in complaint.

"I'm hungry," Deidara announced to the walls. He stood up and pushed the sculpture into a dark, hidden corner where it would stay anonymous and moist until he came back. He chuckled. "This is gonna be something I'm _sure_ Sasori no danna will like…" He scurried out to the hall.

"Hey, kiddo," came a nonchalant voice. Deidara turned and saw Hidan leaning against the wall casually.

"Wha—what are you doing here?" Hidan gave him a weird look.

"I … live here, kid."

"No…I mean, in front of my room."

The silver haired man rolled his eyes.

"Wanted to talk to you." The boy looked away, his eyes narrowing to slits.

"What about?" Hidan glanced at him from the corner of his eyes.

"About your sister." Deidara flinched and turned towards the man slowly. Receiving no response, Hidan continued. "You should ask Sasori about her. He…knew her quite well." The boy stared at him incredulously.

"How?"

Hidan laughed. "Ask him about her, okay?" Deidara nodded cautiously, then turned and fled to the kitchen.

:-::-::-:

Soon, the boy had finished several bowls of rice and soup. He headed back to his room. No fish intercepted his way. He smiled as his shut the door to his room, heading to his now designated work corner. He pulled out his unfinished sculpture and began to mold it. The body and wings were already complete. His fingers made their way up to the face. He carefully formed a fine, chiseled beak on the flat face.

Using his fingernails, he sketched in little guidelines for the speckles.

He set it aside after that, leaving it in the corner. It had been a while, just creating the random spots on the sculpture. He lazily flopped on his bed, stretching his arms behind his head. He closed his eyes, figuring that a little catnap wouldn't hurt…

:-::-::-:

_The boy had fallen, had cried. The tender skin on his knee had split, leaked crimson. The girl picked up the two year old, sat him on her lap and began to sing._

_**Somewhere, a voice calls, in the depths of my heart**_

_**May I always be dreaming, the dreams that move my heart**_

_**So many tears of sadness, uncountable through and through**_

_**I know on the other side of them I'll find you**_

_He hiccuped, looked up at his older, female counterpart._

_**Everytime we fall down to the ground we look up to the blue sky above**_

_**We wake to it's blueness, as for the first time**_

_**Though the road is long and lonely and the end far away, out of sight**_

_**I can with these two arms embrace the light**_

_The boy had reached up, had laughed and cried, "Mama!" The girl had gently pushed his hand aside and answered, firmly, _

"_No. No. She isn't here. She's not coming back." She had stroked the boy's soft blonde hair and looked into his cerulean eyes. "You understand, Dei-chan?"_

"_Sissy-chan?" He had tilted his head to the side, his eyes wide and mouth in a slight pout. She had laughed, and began to sing once again…_

:-::-::-:

A soft click startled the boy out of his light slumber.

"Sasori no danna?" The redhead entered his line of vision.

"Have you been sleeping this whole entire time, brat?"

"I dunno," he shrugged, slowly sitting up. A sharp pang reminded Deidara of his wounded leg. "Oops," was all he said before resituating himself to fix the bandage. Sasori shrugged, turned to Hiruko and began to tinker with it once more. Deidara glanced over in annoyance. "How many times must you fix and refix that piece of…er…that puppet?" Sasori noted the effort to try not to annoy him. He decided not to lose his temper.

"You know a puppeteer's weakness. We attack from afar, succeptable to close range attacks."

"So you hide in that thing…er, puppet, un?"

Sasori couldn't help but smirk. "I don't care what you call my art, brat, just don't call it 'crap'. I think we now understand we have different views of what art is. Although, I'm the one who's artistically correct, but it doesn't matter much."

"Oh, why thanks, Danna, un," Deidara grumbled jokingly. Then he remembered what Hidan had told him. "Oh, right! Danna…Hidan-san said you…knew my sister?" Sasori paused, setting down the puppet hand he had been testing.

"You are still going on about that?" Deidara looked unhappy and did not answer. "Well. Alright, brat. Since you want to know so badly…" He motioned for the boy to follow him. Deidara obliged. He watched with disbelief as Sasori performed a single hand seal, revealing a hidden door that was embedded in the wall. It opened slowly with a groan, allowing the two ninjas in.

Deidara looked around him, eyes wide with surprise and slight disgust.

"Well? Take a look around, brat." The boy did not react like Sasori did many, many years ago to the Sand's faulty puppet collection, with pleased surprise and exhilaration. Deidara approached the dead bodies, now puppets, with disgust and revoltion, afraid of what he would find, not excited of what he would discover like every true artist should have been. Sasori observed the boy with a cold and satisfied glare.

Deidara made his way to the last cabinet of human-turned-puppets. He shifted from one foot to another, peeking through the dark, thick cloth of the puppets.

Finally, he found her.

Her blonde, shining hair swayed as he touched it with a shaking hand. Her face frozen in an expressionless mask of nothing. His eyes made his way up to her eyes.

Her eyes.

Those blue, glowing orbs of pure, raw emotion. They glimmered and he imagined he could hear her say, _"I love you, Dei-chan!"_ once more. One last time.

Then, a surge of emotion flooded his senses. _She left me! She left me!_

He raised his fist in cold fury. _She was selfish! She didn't care…she left me!_

The face caves in with a sickening _crunch_, and the boy does not bother to nurse his bleeding hand.

The two eyes fall with a soft _plink plink_ against the ground.

He breathes heavily, his chest rising and falling unevenly. He coughs, and Sasori stiffens. But it passes.

_She left me. _

_She left me with __**him**_

_She left me to __**die**_

The boy stalked out of the puppet room, his sister's face smashed into the wall, the two eyes gleaming with tears.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight…

As Deidara stormed out of the room, Sasori stared at his ruined creation. Poor girl. She was so beautiful too.

The shards of her face were scattered on the floor, and he swept them up into a neat little pile. There, in the room, he lit a small flame from a match and touched it to the shards of wood. They soon caught flame, crinkling and jumping and hissing. He didn't like fire much himself [seeing as he was made out of flammable material and quickly doused the flame with a quick slap of his hand. All that was left were ashes.

Sasori stood up with a sigh, headed out and prepared himself for a moody, crying Deidara.

Instead, there was Deidara sculpting as if nothing had happened. His eyes weren't even slightly red.

"Oh…Danna!" He whirled around and quickly stowed his precious sculpture in the corner. "You can't look," he informed the puppeteer.

"Why not?" Sasori asked.

"You just can't, 'kay, un?" The redhead shrugged, indicating he didn't care either way and began to test Hiruko's joints once more.

"Danna…What's the point of Akatsuki?" Sasori glanced at the boy's back, which was facing him.

"I will allow Leader-sama to inform you. It is not my place to say." Deidara sighed and his back slouched.

"Alright…but there are so many strange things about this place. Have I even met all of the members, Danna?" Sasori looked thoughtful.

"Mm…I don't think so." He resumed the testing of joints. "But, you will meet her—them when the time is right."

"Her, un?"

"Them," Sasori corrected sternly. Deidara pouted.

"This is such a sexist organisation. I wonder how I was let in, knowing how I look and all."

"Your demeanor says it all."

"What about tomboys, un?"

"They still have feminine attributes."

Deidara blushed. "You speak so freely about bodies, un!" Sasori chuckled softly. He was only twelve after all—still immature and naiive.

"It comes with age." Deidara's train of thought screeched to a stop.

Oh yeah.

This short 'boy' was an ageless, immortal puppet.

"Yeah, un…" He ran a sticky, clay covered hand through his hair. _I forgot that he's an old geezer…_ he glanced at the calm, young looking old man. _He really changes your perceptive on old men…_

"Still embarrased about my comment?"

"N-no, of course not!" Although, he was still blushing lightly, thinking about what Sasori had unneccesarily put into his mind. Raging teenage hormones, you see.

"My apologies," Sasori smiled, "you are still young, after all." Deidara shrugged and turned his back to the puppet.

:-::-::-:

"It's late afternoon, brat. You should—" Sasori blinked, completely stopping what he was about to say.

"What's wro—" The strange tingling sensation crept up the boy's spine, until it reached his head.

_I have called you all together for a meeting._ Deidara looked around frantically for the unknown voice.

"Focus your chakra to your brain and close your eyes," Sasori commanded. The boy obeyed.

Immediately, he was transported to a whole different place. Each member was standing on a column, all of them holographic images.

"Welcome, Deidara, to our humble meeting place. Who is absent?"

"Itachi and Kisame, Leader-sama. They are on a mission," the one who Deidara knew as Kakuzu informed the holograph. That was the enigmatic Akatsuki leader?

"Right. Well…"

_Zzt! Zzt!_

"Kisame, Itachi. You are both late," the leader berated the two nin.

"I apologize, Leader-sama," Itachi's holograph inclined his head slightly.

"Yeah, sorry about that. We got held up by a few twerps…" Kisame's grin could be seen even if his definite shape was not visible.

"Not now, Kisame," Itachi ordered sharply. The blue man 'tch'ed but fell silent.

"I have called you all together to meet our new member."

"That's our new member?" "**We let **_**another**_** girl into Akatsuki?**"

Another?

"I'm a **guy**, un! Get it right!" He whacked his chest several times. "I'm flat!" Wasn't that Zetsu that commented just then? Hadn't he already met Zetsu?

"…Now that that is clarified, this is Deidara…Iwagakure no Deidara, nuke-nin and terrorist bomber," Leader continued.

Deidara twitched, opened his eyes slightly. The two worlds clashed and he wobbled on his feet in the meeting room and swayed in the bedroom.

"I wouldn't do that, Deidara. It's unhealthy for the brain." He closed his eyes once more, as Leader had proposed. "Now, is there anything we need to know…any other things?"

Deidara took a deep breath. Might as well get it over with.

"I have mouths on my hands. And no, they cannot talk, eat or hear."

"…Deidara, how old are you?" A new voice, low, but definitely feminine. He gave a start.

"I…uh…twelve?" The leader sighed.

"No small talk right now. Do you know why, Deidara, Akatsuki is here?"

"No, sir." Sasori nudged him, from…the other room? How—

_Leader-sama…not 'sir'! _The puppeteer warned urgently.

"Err, no, Leader-sama."

"…Essentially, we are aiming for power." Deidara frowned.

"Doesn't everyone aim for power? That's rather unartistic, overused and boring, un." Everyone gaped at the boy. Leader was going to—

"I agree."

What?

"That is why we are taking this process step by step…surely you have heard of the jinchuuriki?" Deidara nodded hesitantly.

"Although, Leader-sama, aren't they…dangerous?" There was laughter from various parts of the room.

"They are. But…that is where the Akatsuki comes in. We are the strongest nin of all the countries…We will be able to defeat and restrain the Jinchuuriki."

"And what then, un?"

"What do you think?" It seemed as if Leader was the mother, helping the child through the word problem, piecing it together bit by bit.

"We extract the demon from them?"

There was a slight chuckle from the leader. "Smart boy."

"But what _then_, Leader-sama, un?"

"We will take the nations as our own…and rule as we please. We will have everyone at our fingertips…That is more then just raw power, Deidara, this is a tamed and frighteningly powerful power. Not like Orochimaru's petty collection of child's techniques." It hit the boy then.

"You can't…There are twelve of them. Twelve demons. That's too much, un! There's too much chakra! Will you infuse it in our bodies? That could kill us all!"

"No…we all have a larger-than-average chakra capacity. Sasori, out of all of us, has the least." Deidara's head snapped towards the puppeteer. The _least_? "Either way, we won't be infusing it in us. It would disturb the balance of our natural chakra. No—this way, we have infinite chakra to mold."

"Oh…I see, un. That is…rather intresting." Leader inclined his head, and his eyes narrowed.

"Missions will be issued out tomorrow morning. Dismissed." Everyone disappeared from Deidara's view, including the meeting room.

He let his hands relax and opened his eyes.

"That was cool, Sasori no danna. How does he do that, un?" Sasori shrugged.

"He's Leader-sama. He is who he is."

"That's helpful."

"He's an enigma. We don't know much about him."

"Okay." He stood up. "Do you need some food, un?"

"No. I'm fine." Deidara nodded hesitantly and scurried out of the room.

He checked the hallways before carefully heading down the one that led to the kitchen. No fish—

"Hey, Pretty Boy."

Deidara visibly twitched.

"How's it goin'?"

Twitch.

"Good? How're your hands—"

"_Get away from me, you freaky pedophile, damn it!_" Lost was his appetite. He rushed out of the room, his face red and frightened. Kisame sighed.

"A lost cause, that's what it is…"

:-::-::-:

"Back already, brat? Well, Leader-sama wants to meet with you."

"What? Me, un?" Sasori rolled his eyes and pointed towards the door.

"Out."

"Where's he gonna be?"

"You'll find him." Deidara scowled. Big help that puppet was.

:-::-::-:

The boy wandered through the halls aimlessly. "Let's see…where would Leader-sama most likely be, un?" Suddenly, a large presence made itself known. The chakra felt huge and filled the hallway, making it burst at its seams. It was strong and controlled, but it seemed as if it was just barely being restrained, like fire. He turned quickly. "L-Leader-sama!" The tall man towered over the boy's form.

"Come with me."

"Y-yes, Leader-sama!" His presence was so commanding, so large that Deidara had reverted back to his old self. He followed the leader meekly.

Once they reached a room and entered it, the boy was met with a large room. Not like the meeting room, but a large room nonetheless. There was another presence in the room. It was strong, yet calm, like the ocean. It lapped at his body and he stood, submerged in the calm, blue sea.

"Come, Deidara."

The sea and fire merged, but they didn't clash. They created a strange cold fire—it still lapped at his feet, and it pushed at the walls. But they molded together…_yin and yang_.

"Y-yes, Leader-sama." He nearly stumbled from the sheer power of the chakra.

"Take a seat, Deidara." A new voice, the same one that questioned his age. The woman. He did as she bid.

"W-what do you need, Leader-sama?" He saw the figure shrug.

"It is not me. It is she that needs something of you." Leader retreated farther into the shadows. Another, the one with the calm chakra, stepped forward. All Deidara could make out was blue hair.

"Hello, Deidara. I am Konan…" She inclined her head. Deidara did the same. "I want to ask you…have you heard the story of the Two Angels?"

"N…no…" Konan's mouth curved upwards slightly. She sat down in front of him.

"Really? Then I shall tell it to you.

"There were two angels…One was a true angel, and the other a fallen angel. The true angel was a man who resided in Heaven. His name was Tengoku. The other angel, the fallen one, was a woman named Jikoku who looked after Hell. Tengoku and Jikoku were siblings. Both were very beautiful.

"Even though Tengoku was supposed to be Holy, and Jikoku was supposed to be Evil, they were like mortals—they both posessed the love for fun.

"On these days that Tengoku and Jikoku wanted to play together, they would disguise themselves as mortals. Tengoku, the angel, would transform into an ugly, old man. Jikoku, the fallen angel, would become a stunning young lady with a lot of charm. Then the game would begin.

"Tengoku would stumble forward on a stick and fall when a traveler came by on a near empty road. Many times the traveler would pass him by. If they did, then Jikoku would saunter by and drop her purse. Many times the traveler would pick it up.

"They used this as a sort of system to sort out those who had ill intentions. Tengoku would send his Angel of Death to the traveler's house. They would then be greeted in the afterlife, the same old man and seductive lady who would change back to their original forms. Usually, it would be Jikoku who led them to her realm.

"However, one time there was a boy who helped both Tengoku and Jikoku. They appeared to him in their true forms and offered two choices."

"What were they?" Deidara had sat, intruiged by the story.

"To follow Tengoku or Jikoku." The boy sat back.

"Wouldn't most people choose Tengoku?"

"Yes," Konan answered. "But the boy chose Jikoku. Do you know why?"

"Tengoku and Jikoku never said that he would be killed and be condemned to Heaven or Hell. So he choose the one he thought was most profitable."

"Very good, Deidara." The tone of her voice indicated she was pleased. "Now…how do you know this so well?"

"Because I am that boy," he answered without missing a beat. Leader stepped forward.

"You can now bring your mission details back to Sasori." He extended a pack of papers to the boy. Deidara carefully extracted the papers from the large hand.

"Th-thank you, Leader-sama, Konan-sama!" He exited with a slam of the door. A soft giggle emitted from Konan. Leader turned towards her.

"He's cute…it's too bad, hm, Pein?" The man smirked.

"Yeah…I suppose."

:--:

Mweh. I was feeling a bit lazee, dontcha know! Guh...hate headaches...

Please review! It helps, wot wot!


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine…

Deidara strode through the hallways, reading over the mission brief carefully. His exuberant face quickly fell as he read further on.

Sasori whirled around as the boy slammed the door open.

"What the hell is this?" He shook the mission brief in the puppet's face.

"A mission brief from Leader-sama," Sasori informed calmly.

"No crap! But what…" he withdrew his hand to glare at the packet, then shoved it back in his partner's hands. "Does he even take me _seriously_?" Sasori rubbed his temples. As a puppet, he shouldn't be even feeling pain, but…his ears throbbed. The boy continued to rant, 'till the puppeteer couldn't take it any longer.

"Shut. The. Hell. Up." Quietly. Deadly.

Deidara did as Sasori bid.

"Take a breath, and _think_. And _don't_," he snapped, as the boy's mouth opened, "don't speak without thinking." Deidara looked down at the papers in his hands and skimmed over the brief once more. He swallowed nervously.

"S-sorry, Sasori no danna…"

"So. The goal of the mission?"

"…Infiltrate the inner library and steal a scroll," Deidara muttered.

"We _borrow_, remember? And of which village?" The redhead pressed.

"Infiltrate the inner library of Iwagakure and…and borrow a scroll of forbidden jutsus." Sasori sat back, satisfied.

"Materials needed."

"Kunai, explosive notes—" Sasori waved it off.

"Not those. How much clay are you going to bring?"

"Ten ounces?"

"Don't ask me."

"…Twelve ounces."

And so it went, until Sasori was confident that the boy could hold his own for the mission. There was just one last thing.

"You do realize that you will have to throw aside all petty thoughts of revenge or family and friends. You go in, you get out." Deidara was still scowling.

"…You keep on saying 'you, you, you'. _You_ aren't going as well?"

"No."

"Not even to _supervise_?"

"No."

"Not even come along?"

"No. This mission should only take three days, tops. You leave tomorrow at sunrise." Well. At least he'll be getting a good show when he leaves.

:-::-::-:

_**Come back, Deidara…**_

_What? What? _

_**Come back…**_

_Why? Why?_

_**Come back, Deidara…to me…for me…**_

_You're dead…why? Why?_

_**For me, Deidara…**_

_No. No._

_**Come back, Dei-chan. For me? To me?**_

_No! No!_

_**Yes…**_

_No! __**No**_**No!**

:-::-::-:

"Get going, brat." Deidara shot up.

"Y-yeah." He clipped his clay pouches to his belt, twelve ounces total. He shivered, shoving clothes, weapons and first aid into his pack. "I need a map, Sasori no danna." Sasori shrugged.

"It's not far. Just twenty miles northeast of here. Should be pretty easy to get to with your…flying…contraption." Deidara held back a snide remark and instead whisked out of the room.

Outside of the lair he quickly made a clay bird and enlarged it. Jumping on his new steed, he commanded it to head towards the northeast.

Once Deidara had settled onto his ride comfortably, he began to study a few books he had…borrowed from Sasori.

_Hand Seals: The Basics of Chakra Manipulation and Chakra Control_

_Secret Tecniques: Taijutsu, Ninjutsu and Genjutsu_

_Kekkai Genkai: Advanced Bloodline, Bloodline Limit_

_Bingo Book_

Well, the Bingo Book looked intresting, but that wasn't what he wanted at the time.

_Kekkai Genkai: Advanced Bloodline, Bloodline Limit_

_**Table of Contents:**_

_**Introduction**__……………………………__**1**_

_**Genetic Make-up/Gene Mutations**__…__**2**_

_-__**Mutation **__ ……………………__**3**_

_**Known Bloodlines**__ ……………………__**4**_

_-__**Byakugan**__ ……………………__**4**_

_-__**Water/ Ice Manipulation**__ …__**6**_

_-__**Sharingan**__……………………__**8**_

_-__**Shikotsumyaku**__ ……………__**10**_

_**FAQ**__……………………………………__**11**_

_**Conclusion**__……………………………__**13**_

The poor boy was disheartened immediately. Even so, he flipped to page 2.

_**An advanced bloodline is generally caused by a genetic mutation in the DNA. Since each bloodline is usually unique to one clan, the mutation will generally show up 75 of the time.**_

_**Advanced Bloodlines cannot be duplicated or copied in any way, and is only acquired through inheritance.**_

_**There are rare instances where the gene[s of an embryo will mutate and, therefore, form a unique technique. The chances of this happening are .0000001, or, 1/1000000. **_

That's great, Deidara thought wryly. I'm a once in a lifetime occurrence.

_**However, from 1301-1345 there was a burst in mutations. Researchers do not know the specific cause, but in the year of 1322, there was a not-so-natural disaster.**_

_**The Sanbi struck Waterfall Village, killing at least 400 and injuring many more. **_

_**There has been speculation about the mutations and the disaster.**_

Deidara stared at the words uncomprehendingly.

He was born in 1345.

The burst of mutations.

Sanbi.

"I'm the last of the mutants…?"

_**The Sanbi had appeared in the middle of the years. Had the mutations revolved around this disaster? Or was it just coincidence?**_

_**One theory is that the wombs of the women exposed to bloodshed had been affected by the unnatural chakra of the Sanbi, infecting the child and mutating the cells so that strange abilities and handicaps form. Usually the child is deformed for the worse, but in those special cases there are those gifted with unique abilities. However, most of those who are gifted with these abilities tend to be mentally and emotionally unstable. **_

_**There are a few recorded people with the mutations:**_

_**Zetsu**_

Zetsu?

_**Pein**_

Who is he?

_**Hoshigaki Kisame **_

Kisame no danna? What's going on?

_**Hidan**_

Deidara's eyes narrowed. Don't tell me—

_**And one unspecified birth—the last of the burst of mutations, in 1345.**_

In fear and loathing, Deidara threw the book down into the forest below.

:-::-::-:

Deidara was huddled against his steed's neck feathers, the comforting earthy smell surrounding him.

"A … _book_ called me a monster," he whispered to his art. The sun had finished its morning tapestry long ago. He peeked up dazedly from the feathers, spying a large jagged shape in the distance.

Home, Deidara thought wryly. Yeah, right.

_I'm back, Sensei!_ He grinned maniacally with sudden vigor. _I'm coming back._

_I want blood…I want art!_

:-::-::-:

The boy quickly cast a henge, removing his headband completely. He was almost able to slip in unnoticed.

Almost.

"Hey! Kid!" Deidara turned slowly with large [green eyes.

"Y-yes, sir?" He almost released his henge.

"I.D.!" Deidara relaxed. This guard was a common person—he sensed no chakra. But he still kept his guard up.

Quickly making a fake I.D. out of clay, he handed it to the man. His eyes narrowed.

"Hichomura…Hijan? I have never heard of that clan before." Deidara smiled, acting embarrassed.

"Yeah…I dunno my real last name. So I told the authorities that it was Hichomura." The man looked amused.

"Put it past the authorities, eh? Which ones?" The boy grinned, searching for an answer in vain.

"I can't say, sir."

"Now, that's just downright suspicious. I must have you—"

"No, no, no! Please, sir, if I must…I know Hitachiin Domurii! That's why I'm here. He's the only one I trust!" _Ironic,_ Deidara thought, _I'm going back to the very man who betrayed me._

The guard looked doubtful.

"Oh, alright…go in," he said gruffly, not bothering to ask how the boy knew the old man. Deidara could have sworn that he heard the man laugh about how harmless kids are.

He was met with dust, tremors and overall chaos. Squinting through the mess, he covered his mouth and nose with his [generic, brown shirt. Rushing perilously through the construction, he followed his instinct to where the forbidden library was.

"Hey, watch it! Get out of the way, damn brat!" Deidara rushed out of the way of the muscular, black haired man, watching skeptically as several rock-nin raised a simple, rickety hut out of the rock.

"Watcha lookin' at, kid? Go away! It ain't safe here!" His point was proven when his concentration snapped, and the structure began to sag.

"Hey, idiot! Snap out of it!"

"Get up!"

"You ain't no help at all!"

"I'm tryin'…Oh lords, I'm trying…" The structure slowly righted itself.

Then…

The man collapsed. Probably from chakra depletion, Deidara guessed.

The building—if it could truly be called one—came down with the man, catching the other three nins.

Deidara heard each individual _crick crack crunch!_ of the bones. And he reveled in that…and their pain. Their groans.

Their blood.

"Oh, lords! Kill me…oh, Kami, kill me…" a boulder shifted, creating more _crack—crunch! crunch! _"**Oh **_**Kami**_**…** Kid, get…someone…oh, **Kami**!" Deidara grinned and kneeled down. The debris and surrounding dust covered up any accident and the boy. He released his henge. As soon as the man started in surprise, he stuck three fingers in the man's mouth, effectively silencing and choking him.

"Heh…surprised? Am I…still…a brat?" He reached farther back until he met the tonsils. The man tried to shape words, and Deidara obliged, taking his fingers back and wiping them on the victim's hair.

"No…not anymore! You're a bitch!" Deidara growled low in his throat, and rammed his fist straight into the raven haired man's nose.

"I don't appreciate negative comments," he murmured in the nin's ear, toying with the now broken nose. He grabbed it and twisted it. He was rewarded with a rich yelp and a curse. "Now, now. Such rude," a slap, "inconsiderate," a punch, "words. You should know better." The nin was almost unconscious, and Deidara threw a condescending look at him.

"I have work to attend to, so if you will excuse me…" He wobbled the boulder above the man's head a little, loosening it and making it fall.

"Aghh—" _crunch! _

Blood.

"Shh. Don't tell what happened, okay?"

:-::-::-:

He exited the dust, effectively pulling off the scared, freaked out little [generic boy. He grabbed a passing woman's arm and pointed frantically toward the rubble.

"Auntie! Auntie! Over…over there! They…they…it…" The woman looked at him, to the rubble, and back again. Her brows furrowed.

"It'll be okay. We can—"

"That's not the point! They're _dead_!" She shook her head.

"Not what I meant, kid. It's happened before—they are expendable. Just leave them be. They will be useless if they have been crushed by Iwa's boulders." She sent him on his way, with a "get out, it's dangerous," and walked past him to inspect a few other construction sites.

At first Deidara doubted his deserting of his village.

Now, he didn't.

He wanted a big commotion—a big distraction. Then the mission would be over and done with.

And now…this place has declared nins "expendable".

Dispicable.

It was fun to kill the man, but not then. Not then.

Get in, get out.

Then go back home.

:-::-::-:

Entering the library itself wasn't so hard. [Windows, you know. It was finding the scroll for forbidden jutsus that was hard. Then, after an hour of searching in the moldy place, he found it. Just as he was about to grab it, the inner door opened.

_Sensei_.

Deidara dived behind an aisle of books, immediately henging. He slowly made his way towards the window.

"Come out." Deidara stayed hidden. "I know you're here. Come out!" He kept making his way back.

"Boo." Deidara startled, rolling away from the old man. He held a kunai in front of him. "Don't worry; I won't hurt you…Come here." Deidara shook his head furiously, stepping farther into the shadows. "Put the kunai down…come here." Reluctantly, Deidara slid the kunai into his hidden holster. He crept out of the shadows, keeping the majority of his [generic features away from the old man.

"W-why?"

"You're lost…you're a lost soul…I can help you…" Deidara slowly crept out, in what he called the 'spider stance'. Balancing on one foot, the leg bent to the ground, the other stretched out straight to the side, his hands placed one in front of the other in front of the bent leg.

"Why?" He asked with more confidence. The man shook his head.

"You are so like another boy I knew…we nearly met on the same circumstances." Deidara flinched in surprise, immediately on the alert. Yes…when he was six, he had come here to find the secret behind his mouths.

"Why the same circumstances?" The man glanced at him.

"It is not for you to know. Come, child. You look tired." Deidara shook his head, scooting back into the corner.

"Why? No." The man frowned.

"What are you searching for?"

"…Why do you need to know?"

"Why must you always answer with 'why'?"

"Why do you not answer me?" The old man sighed in defeat.

"I'm the keeper of the library. You may borrow a scroll…and read it in here." Deidara frowned.

"Why in here? I need it." His teacher narrowed his eyes at the arrogant answer.

"Read it in here. That is all."

"That is not all. I'll make a compromise with you, grandfather." The man paused. "I will bring it out for a short while, then I will bring it back in due time. However long you bid."

"An hour." Deidara balked.

"I can't do that, grandfather! I…three hours."

"Two hours."

"Two hours and forty-five minutes." The man glowered.

"Fine. But, there is a fee if it is not back by then."

"I shall go, then, grandfather." Deidara grabbed the scroll from the shelf and turned to leave.

"Boy?" He stopped in midstep. "How are you getting out?"

"The way I came in."

"It is your birthday tomorrow, is it not?" Deidara inhaled sharply.

"W-w…no. No. It is not."

"As your birthday present, child, I will not call the authorities. Keep the scroll." Deidara turned with wide eyes.

"It isn't my birthday!"

"You're turning thirteen, Deidara. This would be good for both of us...For everyone..." The boy didn't move as the old man enveloped him in a loving embrace.

He didn't move when the kunai was poised above his neck.

He didn't even move when it came down.

:--:

Yeah, yeah. I know about the whole, the genes depend on each parent, and it could be 100 of the time if the parents are purebred…

But what about Mikoto [Itachi's mother? Was she a purebred Uchiha? Was her husband a purebred as well? If they were both heterozygous…there was only a 50 chance that their children would obtain the Sharingan. Unless Mikoto was homozygous in the sense of not having the Sharingan genes, and Fugaku [was that his name? was a purebred Uchiha. Agh, so many possibilities…my head hurts!

Ignore that. Just me after Science benchmarks, and multiple tests…XP

And yes, it's strange that Deidara calls them 'auntie' and 'grandfather', right? Well, I don't know about Japanese culture, but in mine we consider 'mrs/ms/mr' reserved for formal occasions between adults. As children, we call our elders 'auntie' 'uncle' 'grandfather' and 'grandmother' as a form of respect. Yeah.

AND I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT NINJA HISTORY, NOR WHAT YEAR IT IS. 

Review, please? If I haven't scared you away by now.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten…

Deidara gulped greedily at the fresh air outside. Too close…way too close…

:-::-::-:

_The kunai came down, penetrating the boy's soft skin._

_There was only a soft _squelch_ as the kunai was pulled out. A bunshin. _

_Laughter from outside, and the old man rushed to the window. There was the boy, on his 'masterpiece'. He was giggling like a madman as the bird flew away. The blonde turned and fixed a cold eye on his sensei._

_He swept his bangs aside, revealing the cold, cold metal—the dead eye. A final taunt, before death._

_The bunshin exploded—a mass of red, white, orange and yellow. Of clay and blood and screams. _

_Of clay and blood and _art.

:-::-::-:

His art had appeased his sadistic mindset at the moment.

"Thanks for the present, sensei," Deidara smirked, looking at the scroll in his hand.

The rest of the ride was uneventful—the ninjas below hadn't noticed anything. Explosions happened all the time, now, with construction going on.

He urged his steed towards…home._Yeah…home_. He thought contentedly.

Deidara arrived without incident and rushed headlong through the rooms and halls and finally reached Leader's room. He gulped and knocked.

"Come in, Deidara." The boy hesitated, but stepped in anyway.

The familiar clash of water and fire spread over him like a blanket.

"Welcome back, Deidara," Konan murmured. Deidara nodded politely. He handed the scroll to Leader with both hands, bowing slightly. He felt the artifact leave his hands, and he began to withdraw from the room.

"The report, Deidara." He paused. Report? "You must bring me a report after each mission."

"A…written one, Leader-sama, un?"

"No. Just brief me on the mission." Deidara obliged, telling him about the man, his sensei, the clay bunshin. The expendable nins.

"This is what we want to abolish once we come to power, Deidara. Lives are not expendable," Leader murmured, his voice powerful and resonant. But it didn't ease the boy.

"I know that!" Next to the leader, Konan raised an eyebrow at the raised voice. The water and fire smothered him a little more. "Er…Well…they aren't, un…But she was so used to it!" Leader nodded, sighing, and with a "that's enough, Deidara," dismissed the boy.

Sasori was not waiting outside, as Deidara had [foolishly expected. So he trudged his way back to his room.

The puppet was not there either. He ran into Kisame [fishman! in the hall. The tall man walked right by until Deidara called him back.

"He-e-y! How's my favorite girl—"

"Kisame no danna," Deidara snarled, a feral look entering his azure eye.

"Right, right. Sorry, Deidara," Kisame said with an embarrassed laugh.

"Where's Sasori no danna, un?" The man shrugged.

"Shouldn't be asking me. I don't keep track of him." Deidara turned away. "Good luck on finding him!"

The boy traveled through the halls, evidently bored and tired. He wasn't hungry enough to eat, tired enough to sleep. Wasn't motivated enough to create art.

"I don't wanna train, I don't wanna eat, I don't wanna sleep…I don't even wanna make art! What the hell is wrong with me?" He ran his fingers through his hair. "I hate it when I feel like this, un."

"Not wanting to make art, brat? What kind of artist are you?" The familiar teasing voice was directly behind the boy, who spun around abruptly.

"Danna!" His eye was bright and forgiving—then, "where were you, un?" An accusation—demanding. Dark and angry.

"Out," the puppet said with a shrug.

"That's not an answer!"

"I will not argue that point," Sasori muttered, too tired to make a good comeback.

"Did you just get back from a mission, or something, un?"

"No." A blatant lie.

"What'd you have to do?" Sasori sighed, exasperated. He was hoping to get back to the lair before the brat in order to get some rest.

"Let me rest, brat," the redhead ordered.

"But you're…well…that," he said, tapping his partner's arm. It made a hollow _clack._ "I thought you didn't need rest—"

"_Leave me in peace,_" Sasori ordered, irritated that Deidara had brought up his puppet body in such a degrading manner. They arrived at their room and Deidara dashed in front of Sasori, jumping on his bed.

"Ahh, that's much better," he sighed in contentment, feeling all of his muscles relax. He then stuck his hand over the side of the bed, pulling up the thing that he had been working on before his mission. Sasori rolled his eyes, testing Hiruko's joints once more. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the boy move his hands ever so slightly, making indentations on the clay.

"Look, Danna!" Sasori suppressed a growl while turning, preparing to launch into a lecture of respecting one's—

Deidara was holding up a barn owl.

"What is that?" The puppeteer asked, incredulous. The boy scowled.

"What you think it is, un."

Sasori inspected it. It was so tiny…so small. The details were very careful and delicate. Not bad, for the brat. In fact, he could have sworn the owl was crying out—_I'm free—I'm free! See, I'm free!_

"_That's_ what you've been working on for these past few days? What a waste of time…" Sasori muttered. Deidara glared at Sasori disapprovingly.

"You should know, if you really call yourself an artist, Danna! Every _true_ piece of art has a small piece of an artist's soul embedded in his art. No matter how small it is, true art has mood. In fact, the smaller it is, the more emotion will show through, un! That's why I don't like your puppets," he declared with a nod to Hiruko, "they're dead.

"I'm gonna die with my art, see, Danna. My soul isn't going to waste away slowly with each piece of art like any _other_ artist," a pointed look at Sasori, "but I'm gonna become my art, un." Sasori furrowed his eyebrows.

"How do you know this, brat?" Deidara smiled peacefully.

"I just do, Danna. I just do." He gingerly laid the already dried sculpture on the puppet's bed. Sasori looked at it skeptically.

"What makes you think I want that, brat?" Deidara shrugged, and stretched.

"I'm gonna grab something to eat, un," he announced to no one in particular.

As soon as the boy left, Sasori picked up the owl, setting it behind all the completed wooden carvings on a high shelf.

:-::-::-:

"Hey, brat. Finished eating yet?" Sasori asked, standing in the doorway of the eating area.

"Just about, un," the boy answered, his mouth full. The redhead stared at the food uncomprehendingly.

"What is that?" He asked, referring to the food. It looked different.

"I think Kisame no danna said it was from Kirigakure. You know, his village."

"Yeah, but what is it?" Deidara shrugged, then stopped, seeing Sasori's glare.

"I think he said…er…_mapo tofu_. Somethin' like that, un." Sasori frowned.

"That doesn't sound Japanese,(1)" he said bluntly. Again, the boy shrugged.

"It's some dish from another land or something, un." He shoveled more of the rice and tofu into his mouth. "Done!" He announced, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt.

"Where'd we get it?" The redhead continued to inquire.

"Some villagers from Amegakure brought it to us. I don't know why. Aren't they supposed to hate us?" Sasori remembered hearing something about…

"Oh, right. We're moving to Amegakure, brat." Deidara started.

"What? Why?"

"It's probably better that way. We're too near Iwa, anyway."

"That doesn't answer my question, Danna. Why?" Sasori frowned.

He absolutely hated it when he couldn't answer a question. So he did what he always did when he couldn't answer a question—he walked away.

"H-hey, Sasori no danna!" He sped after the puppet. "Well, if you don't know the answer, just tell me you don't know," he grumbled.

"Shut up, brat." He could feel a migraine coming on.

"Aww, c'mon, Sasori no danna! Don't leave me in the dirt, un!" Sasori spun on his heel and glared at the boy. Deidara almost ran into the puppet. "Hey, Danna! Can you not do that, un? Your body isn't exactly the best to run into—"

Sasori growled. Deidara immediately stopped talking.

"First: What part of _shut up_ do you not get? Second: Stop bringing up my body, okay? It's art—start treating it like one. Third…" Deidara had shrunk from the onslaught of words. He wanted to curl up into a ball and stay there, to keep the snarling words out. "You _came_ from the dirt. You'll _stay_ there, as well." Sasori turned away from the boy and, gracefully with much composure, he walked down the hall to their room.

Deidara just stared at his hand mouths.

"Damn you." The mouths just wriggled their pink tongues, taunting him and his pitiful existence.

:-::-::-:

"Leader-sama wants to see you," Sasori deadpanned. Deidara scowled.

"Yeah, whatever." He headed off towards the room anyway.

The door was half open when he arrived, and he poked his head in.

"Another mission, Leader-sama?" He could see a hand waving him in.

"Sit down," Leader said sternly. Deidara did as he bid. A loud _thwack!_ before him made him startle, and he nearly jumped out of the chair he was in. There was Leader, standing up with his hands on the desk, the fire edging ever closer to Deidara. The boy could see the stubborn set of the strong chin, the wild auburn hair, the metallic sparkle of the numerous piercings…and…

Those _eyes_. Those entrancing_ eyes_. Ring upon ring upon silver ring.

Then he saw the feral snarl of the mouth. He felt the fire lap at his very being. The chakra wasn't even formed into any jutsu or shape, and it still burned, tore and ate away at his body.

"S-stop, Leader-sama, please!" Deidara yelped, the chakra beginning to seep into his clothes. _It hurts, Leader-sama…_he wanted to scream. _It hurts._

Leader withdrew his chakra quickly, silently noting the burns on the boy.

"I'm _tired_ of your petty emotions. They always get in the way—don't you see that? Look at Itachi," Deidara glowered, "he is a perfect example of a ninja." The boy's jaw was set, and Leader could tell he was about to yell. "_I'm not done_. You are perfectly capable…But your immature attitude always gets in the way of everything. Even after_one mission_ I can tell. Now," he sighed, "you can shout all you want."

After a full minute, the boy still hadn't said a thing.

"Nothing? Then go." He turned back to the paper scattered on his desk.

"Wait…" Leader paused, not bothering to glance up. "I'm not sure…if my leg's okay." The man 'tch'ed and silently scolded himself for letting his chakra free. Only Konan could handle it at such an intense level.

"That's right. Your injured leg. Ask Sasori—"

"No!" Deidara blurted before he could stop himself. "I mean…I'm fine…er… Leader-sama." Leader furrowed his brows and frowned.

"Then go, if you're alright." Deidara nodded and slipped out as quickly as he could.

:-::-::-:

Sasori was back in his 'butt-ugly' puppet, as Deidara called it. His leg throbbed still, as he had left it literally untreated for the past few days. _But I'm alright. I'm not gonna go ask the old geezer for help…But damn, these chakra burns hurt._

It was dinnertime, and Deidara didn't need to look behind him to know Sasori was behind him. The _shh, shh_ of Hiruko was clue enough.

The two silently filed into the eating room. Kisame, Itachi, Hidan, Kakuzu, Konan and Leader were already seated and eating. Kisame smirked.

"Well, looks like the happy couple has—Uaa!" All the members blinked as Deidara's fist met Kisame's face, watched as he flew through the air and winced as he smashed into the wall—headfirst. The blue man immediately jumped up. "Hey, what the hell's your problem, Deidara?"

"You were in my seat," he muttered darkly, and sat down in the seat he had just relieved Kisame. The rest of the Akatsuki went back to eating their food, but they were obviously laughing at the fish-man's loss.

"Stop being a spoiled brat, Deidara," Sasori's guttural voice snarled. Deidara ignored this remark. The puppet decided to press a few buttons—just for fun. "Tch. You're such a girl, brat." The others knew what he was doing. They were staying out of this one.

Smart choice.

"_Excuse_ me? _You're_ the one that plays with _dolls_, un!"

"You mold figurines and bring them to life—rather suspicious, brat!"

"Pervert! You like to hide in your closet of freaky dolls. _That's_ suspicious!" Apparently, Sasori had taught him the 'fundamentals of life and rebirth'. As well as 'anatomy'.

"Kisame is the one that reads porn."

"Hey, hey! That's not cool! Don't bring me into this!" The large man protested.

"How do I know you don't, _Danna_?"

"I told you to stop calling me that! You're just a clingy, spoiled brat!"

"And you? The _l'artiste incompetent_! What the hell is up with _dolls_?"

"What the hell is up with _dirt_ that breaks immediately?" Deidara couldn't forget—_I was born in the dirt…I'll stay there too._

"It's art, un! _Art_, dammit! Didn't we agree we wouldn't argue about this anymore?"

"When did I say that? In your head?" Deidara scowled, at a loss for words. "Apparently. I find that rather frightening… What goes on in that little girly head anyway?"

"Shut up! Who knows what you're doing in that puppet?" Everyone backed away, inching away from the table. Even Itachi. The metal tail shot out from behind Hiruko, lashing out and pinning the boy to the wall. He showed no fear, even as the poisoned tip was dangerously close to his heart.

"This poison, brat, is not ordinary poison. It is designed to kill. A _drop_ to the foot will, at the very least," here the tip traveled down to the foot of the boy, "send the victim into convulsions and bring out the worst memories from the mind. Not only that, it will melt whatever it touches."

"Don't give a crap."

"That's too bad, brat. As I said, at the very least you will be sent into convulsions. The most?" A deep crimson drop of liquid teetered dangerously on the metal pincer. "It won't kill you. I'm not merciful enough." The tail moved up towards his eye. "I suppose this is where you're harboring the most memories?" Deidara snarled, his lips curling in distaste.

"Don't give a damn." He could tell the puppeteer was aggravated. He was treading on dangerous ground. Walk carefully.

"You're so damn cocky…I suppose I can save the details. It's more memorable firsthand." The boy's eyes widened, his whole body quivering. "This, brat, is _my _art."

Not careful enough.

The drop had fallen.

:--::--:

(1) OKAY! I don't KNOW if they speak Japanese or English or French or Hebrew or Tibetan or whatever!

And _mapo tofu _(MAH-poh dou-foo) is my favorite dish that my Mom cooks. Yummy. I don't know if that is the correct spelling, but eh. And YES it's **dou-foo**, not **toe-foo**. At least, that's how we pronounce it. –shrug- By the way, '_l'artiste incompetent' _means 'the incompetent artist'.

Go ahead and review! Or flame, if that's what rocks your boat, but preferably constructive criticism.  And Word keeps on saying that 'piercings' is not a word. Is it? Is it not?


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven…

Konan shot out of her seat as soon as the drop fell.

"Sasori! He's just a child! What are you—"She felt Pein drag her back.

"We chose this child without knowing anything about him. Be quiet and watch." The blue haired woman did as she was told. _But this feels so wrong…_

The boy's head dropped forward loosely.

It had begun.

:--:

_The straps had been cinched tightly, so as the boy would not struggle. _

_It felt as if there were no blood in his limbs._

_"This eye…heh…Accursed piece of … ." The blonde struggled._

_"No, no! No, Father, let me—" __**slap!**_

_"It is only right that I should fix the injury I created. Now…the cut is this wide…aha!... How lovely! How perfect, no, boy?"_

_"Don't…don't…" _

:--:

"_**STOP! STOP!**_" The boy's head had flown up and to the side, as if he had been slapped and was screaming blindly.

Konan looked beseechingly to Pein.

"This is cruel! Why must—"

"Why should this boy be different then all the others? Be quiet, Konan. I must concentrate."

:--:

_"I will have to resize this…but at this rate, you will lose your eye. Ah… I will resize your eye, then."_

_"__**STOP, FATHER!**__"_

_"Oh, come now. It will not hurt. Daddy's here…" _

_With each slice, each cut, each jolt, the boy strained and cried._

_"__**LET ME OUT!**__"_

_"Quiet! Just a little more…" With a burst of chakra, he reconnected the nerves. "I just gave you a service, boy. Your eye will become useful—of that I'm sure."_

:--:

"_**LET ME OUT!**_" The boy's body convulsed and it appeared that he had passed out.

"It is done, is it not, Pe—Leader-sama?" Konan pleaded.

"No. Release him, Sasori." The tail unwound and dropped the boy unceremoniously onto the ground.

:--:

_"You are awake? That is good. Look at your new toy, boy!" He handed a piece of glass to the boy. The blonde weakly brushed his bangs to the side and gasped when he saw the mechanical thing. It encased his eye and was uncomfortably cold and metallic._

_"W-what is this…?"_

_"It is a scope. It should stay on your eye—otherwise, it will hurt tremendously. See this?" The man bent down, and Deidara flinched as the hand touched the side of his face. There was a click! as the man pressed a button. He then proceeded to peel off the device._

_"Ow! Ow! Stop!" A kick to the ribs, and he was immediately silenced._

_"Shut up, boy! Look, this is what it is." The cold metal thing was glinting and winking in the weak lantern light. The red and green lenses were cold and unforgiving. _

_He then proceeded to look at his eye._

:--:

"What the hell, Pein? Look at his eye!" The auburn haired man squinted at the strange eye. There was no iris, and only a tiny part of his pupil was left. The rest of the eye was a milky, diluted white. The mechanical device was laying in front of the boy, glinting and winking in all its coldness.

The man looked closer to the boy, and saw that the cerulean eye was crying and the other was not.

It looked almost gleeful.

:--:

_"How long will it take to heal…?" The man scowled and kicked the boy once more._

_"However long it takes you to grow a … spine, freak!" _

_And that was the end of the first childhood of Deidara._

:--:

"It is done. Sasori, I want you to run a few tests on the scope." Sasori scowled from within Hiruko, but nodded.

"I understand." He took the scope and made his way back to his room.

Meanwhile, Kisame was staring at Deidara's eye.

"Hey, Itachi-san. What is this? And don't not answer me—I know you know what this is!" The boy rolled his eyes, but proceeded to explain.

"It is an anti-genjutsu eye. I don't know how such a lowly shinobi could know how to create one, but he did. Rather faulty, though." Itachi bent down to the unconscious blonde and stared at the eye. "I don't understand why his father had to remove the iris completely."

Hidan and Kakuzu were the next to inspect the boy.

"What the … was that scope … ? And damn, this kid had one … up daddy. Look at his … eye, Kakuzu! Disgusting … isn't it?"

"Shut up. Sasori's running tests on the scope right now." And they, too, filed out of the room.

Konan quietly kneeled in front of the boy. The cerulean eye was still crying, and the other seemed to revel in the attention.

"Pein, he has suffered psychological damage. Shouldn't we do something?" The leader shook his head.

"If he is strong enough, he will be worthy of Akatsuki."

And so they left the boy, just like all the others.

The eye was laughing, laughing at its partner's pain.

And Deidara laughed and sobbed, half mad with illusion and pain. "If I am strong enough…If I grow a spine…If I am good enough…If I am even worthy to live…If…If…If…" His voice trailed off, and finally, both eyes slept.

:--:

"Hey, Deidara…Wake up." The boy looked up, his heavy-lidded eyes threatening to close once more. His vision was bleary and he just barely made out the blue hair and the paper rose.

"Konan…sama…" His vision swam and he promptly retched. His slight frame was racked with cold, but his head was burning up. Konan inspected the bile, and found not only the last meal but blood.

Deidara was coughing up blood again.

"Mother…" The boy was delirious. More blood splattered over the front of his shirt. Quickly she grabbed two rags and cleaned up the mess—the other went on his forehead.

"Shh…you need to be treated." Swiftly, she carried the boy through the halls to the room Sasori and Deidara shared. The whole time the boy snuggled closer to Konan and mewled, "Mother, Mother, you're back…you're back…"

"Open up, Sasori." The door reluctantly opened.

"What do you—oh, _hell_ no. Get that piece of … away from me." Deidara turned bleary eyes toward the puppet, then back to Konan with wide eyes.

"Don't let him hurt me…" Sasori studied the milky iris-less eye. What a contrast it was to the normal bright, intelligent cerulean eye. With a sigh, Sasori moved out of the doorway and motioned toward the boy's bed.

"Fine. Don't expect me to do anything for him, though." Konan set Deidara on the bed, where his limp form tensed. "Go, now." The woman frowned, but left.

"I'm not going to hurt you, brat." Deidara turned towards him lazily.

The eye. The redhead stepped out of Hiruko, then carefully brushed aside the bangs.

There—the colorless eye, the one that refused to revel in happiness—only in pain! It saw the world in black and white, refusing to do something for the good of humanity.

"Stay away…" Deidara flicked his head from the redhead's hands. The eye frowned at Sasori, snarled and snapped at him. Sasori 'tch'ed and looked deeper into the pupil. "I said _stay away_!" The boy flailed madly, pushing the redhead away. Sasori continued to frown.

"I rather wish that Leader-sama didn't make me do that…"

"Sasori no danna?" The childish, sweet voice made the puppet look up. He saw the hair slide over the pale face, the blue eye sparkling, the white one deadened.

"You remember my name, brat?" _And all your memories are back?_

"Mmhm," he replied simply, "I do."

"What do you want?"

"Is Itachi really a better shinobi than me?" Sasori frowned.

"What brings this up?" He knew how much the boys hated each other, although Itachi was a bit obscure about it.

"Is he?" A sigh.

"Yes, in terms of attitude. But in skill and brains I think you are equally matched." Deidara nodded.

"Mmhm. Thanks, Sasori no danna." A shudder racked the thin body and he curled up into a ball. The redhead peered suspiciously at the boy's mouth. Thin crimson lines trickled from the edges. Sasori took the forgotten rag and pressed it to the boy's mouth.

"Get up." Deidara managed to do so without throwing up. He was leaning heavily on the puppeteer. "It's come back, huh?" He asked as soon as they made it to the bathroom. Deidara promptly wobbled to the toilet and coughed up blood. A definite 'yes'. Sasori proceeded to shuffle around some things in the shelves, looking for something. He found it as soon as the coughing fit stopped.

A sharp pain invaded the boy's senses and he yelped.

"Ow! What…" He looked down with watery eyes and caught the glint of a needle. Sasori was calmly disinfecting the shot.

"There. Now, rest and don't talk." Deidara smiled weakly.

_So much for not expecting help, huh, Danna?_

:--:

"He's still asleep," Sasori answered Konan's silent question. "So don't ask me anything about the kid." The woman quirked a fine eyebrow.

"It's 'kid' now, not 'brat'? I could have sworn you're growing a soft spot for him," she smirked. As the redhead glared, a slight giggle escaped her lips. "Just stating a fact. I bet you even gave him the antidote, hm, Sasori-san?" The metal stinger waved itself threateningly.

"Yes, in fact, I did. But you won't be getting some…" She laughed again. Oh, how fun it was to annoy Sasori. She could see why Deidara made that one of his official hobbies.

"Yes, yes. I understand, old man. Off I go!" She smirked with a formal bow. Sasori twitched. 'Old man' indeed!

In the eating room Kisame was attempting to pull pranks on his younger partner. Itachi just ignored him and continued to eat, occasionally flicking the fish man on the forehead. Pein and Konan were absent.

"Oi, Itachi-san, how's your … brother?" Hidan asked, for the sake of conversation. Sasori took his seat next to Kakuzu.

"…" With that, Itachi gave the impression he didn't care.

"So you haven't done it yet? Dear Jashin, you're a … pansy."

"…It isn't the right time yet." Kisame shook his head.

"Hidan has a point, kid. You're postponing the massacre too long. Don't let your feelings for your kid brother do anything." Itachi ground his teeth and sunk into his chair.

"By the way, I have an ANBU mission soon. Tell Leader-sama, Kisame."

"Eh? Where's your respect? Tell him yourself. And don't change the subject."

"Calm down, Kisame-san," said Sasori, "and listen. Itachi, finish off the ANBU in your squad." The boy narrowed his eyes.

"I'm escorting newbies. I don't have any reason to kill them—"

"You don't need a reason, Itachi-san. You just so happen to be part of an organization full of S-rank criminals—" Kisame started.

"…Deidara is definitely not S-rank material. And by the way, my clan doesn't _know_ about Akatsuki."

"Nor will they know, either, Itachi-san, after you're done with them. Lighten up and have some fun with killing those brats, will ya? You've already killed your best friend—how can killing a bunch of no-names be worse?" Itachi stayed silent and Kisame sighed. "In what way?"

"…In…no way, I suppose." The fish man gave a toothy smile and nodded approvingly.

"Now you're starting to think like one of us." The door to the room opened, and everyone present looked up at the newcomer.

"Hey, brat." Deidara's face stayed blank for a second—then he threw his head up and gave a blindingly pseudo-grin.

"Hi, Sasori no danna!"

"So you two kissed and made up—uaa!" Again, Kisame went flying through the air into the opposite wall.

"In my seat again, Kisame no danna?" Then he turned to glare at the others.

"Where's my…scope?" Hidan shrugged, and turned to Kakuzu who answered,

"Who knows what Sasori did to it." The boy scowled and bit his lower lip, turning not-so-expectantly to the puppet. To his surprise, a large arm held the piece of metal out to the boy.

"Here, brat." Deidara took it carefully, inspecting every inch.

"You…didn't leave any…residue on it, right, Sasori no danna, un?"

"No poison. Put it on." Deidara dropped his head so no one could see his face, carefully angling the metal to his face. He winced as a jolt ran through his body, the scope reattached and reconnected to his nerves.

"There! Now I feel normal again, un." He headed to the counter, grabbing some rice and tofu. "So, find anything about the scope, Danna?" He asked slyly while sitting down.

"…" Kisame looked at the hulking puppet with disbelief.

"You didn't? Aren't you, like, a mechanical genius or whatnot?"

"Shut up, unless you want another black eye, Kisame-san."

"Of course!" Kisame agreed readily.

"And no, brat, I didn't." Deidara giggled.

"Didn't think so, un. You can't dissect this thing without the blueprint or unless you're extremely mechanically smart, like me," (and modest too, Sasori muttered) "I was able to modify it a bit, and Danna, you need customized tools for this scope."

"So what does it do?" However much he hated having to ask questions, especially ones that he didn't know the answer to, he was curious. That scope had a different power than just zooming up and allowing the boy to see.

"I'm a long range specialist, Danna. It allows me to zoom in on far away objects. Not only that, it can take pictures as well. So I generally remember the more fun and artistic shinobi I've battled."

"That's all?" Hidan asked, bored with the scope.

"That was before I modified it, Hidan no danna. It now tells me precisely how far a specific object or person is, at what velocity an object is at any point when dropped or thrown…etcetera, etcetera," he informed smugly.

"Can it see the flow of chakra?" Kakuzu asked. Perhaps if they manufactured those scopes their income would be much more plentiful…

"No, and Kakuzu no danna, think of the materials' cost and the operation required in order to manufacture this." The unofficial treasurer flinched at the thought.

"…Blondie." Deidara shot a glare at Itachi and scowled. His blue eye gleamed threats.

"What, you damn prick?" The ebony haired boy's eyes flashed red.

"What is wrong with your eye?"

"Nothing."

"The other one, idiot. You are a true blonde." It took all of Deidara's will to not make the weasel into art. Eh, wouldn't look to good anyway.

"This isn't an eye. It can't be called one anymore. It's seriously alive and has its own will. That's also why I have this scope. It suppresses chakra and keeps this _thing_ from totally demolishing every little thing that provokes me. Do you feel enlightened, snob?"

"No."

"Too bad."

Off and on they went, the elders watching warily.

Sasori noticed how alike they were—opposites attract, parallels repel, he supposed. Their _hair_, for one thing. They were both so damn meticulous about their long, perfect hair! Their eyes were unusual and both were lean and pale. They carried themselves with pride and considered themselves invincible, even though Itachi was a bit more cautious with his power. [Then again, it is rather hard to be cautious with explosives and not hurt someone.

Then there were the personalities.

Both were rather stubborn and dark. Deidara hid his dark side with a sparkly, sweet angel act. They were hotheaded when provoked, although Itachi displayed his in a more subtle way. Both had rather morbid ways of thinking and it showed through how they killed. Then, although they had their pride, they were still trying to become individuals and independent. They were trying to prove themselves to each other.

That was probably why they got so pissed off with each other.

The redhead checked the fight and saw that they were now being rather physical and 'in-your-face'. The insults didn't particularly help the fight, either.

"You snob! How much time do you spend on your oh-so-perfect hair? How much money? You're supposed to be a better shinobi than me!" Deidara's blue eye was flashing, electric frustration building. He had caught Itachi's kunai, and Itachi had caught his shiruken.

"You can't say that to _me_, blondie. Look at you! I only spend—at the most—twenty minutes. I bet you take at least an hour. That's not shinobi, blondie. And you have the worst aim." Itachi's eyes were glowing a scarlet red, the wheels turning slowly and dangerously.

"_I _just need to brush it in the morning and it's still better than your chemical lathered mane! And what about you? Twenty minutes? _That_ is not shinobi material! And you can't say that!" Sasori sighed, along with the others. Typical. Hair, of all things.

"You cheat—you have a … scope, blondie." A punch that was caught by Deidara.

"I'm a _long range specialist_. I don't have birds eye. Nor do I need some dirty kekkai genkai to be _better_ than a so-called genius, nor do I need one to be _called_ a genius!" A roundhouse to where Itachi's chin should have been.

"Tch. As if. I am—I have proof."

"Betcha couldn't have reformatted this scope." He spat on the ebony haired boy.

"As I said, I don't need a scope to be better than you." A vein appeared on his pale forehead, wiping the spit from his cheek.

"_You_ call _me _a cheater! _You're_ the one with the _Shuh-reen-guhn_," Deidara sneered, sticking out his tongue and crossing his eyes.

"Tch. How elementary."

"This whole _fight_ is elementary! And you started it!"

"Oh—don't do _that_. _That_ is elementary." Their fight immediately stopped when someone roared,

"_My_ hair is the best, got it? That is the end of that! Now, _shut up_!" The two boys whirled around.

"Konan-sama!" She glowered at them, a vein appearing on her pale forehead.

"_What_ kind of fight was that?"

"A petty one," Itachi answered calmly.

"I would agree, un, but that's against my moral codes to agree with this prick."

"_**Then go outside and fight it out, dammit! I'm tired of listening to stupid kids bicker—**_" A hand shot out and grabbed Konan's wrist, dragging her out of the room while everyone stared.

Pein stuck his head in, his piercings glinting in the light.

"PMS. Sorry 'bout that. Meant to lock her in the room…" After a few moments of staring at the now empty doorway, Deidara turned to the other boy, his grin terribly sweet and innocent.

"Truce, un?" Itachi sneered, pointedly looking at the hand-mouths.

"Like I'd shake hands with a freak." Deidara flinched, the innocent, sweet look wiped off his face for a second. Then, the smile appeared once more.

"That was a low blow, Itachi-san," he forcefully laughed, "and it's not as if you aren't regarded as one either." Itachi turned and stared at the blonde, and his eyes evidently told Deidara that it was now a full out war.

"In fact, I'm not. I'm regarded as an unstable genius that will succeed the clan. At least I have worth, blondie, however temporary it is." He then swept out of the room, leaving Deidara with his hand still extended.

"Ah…haha…" _However long it takes you to grow a … spine, freak!_ "Ha…" _I'm tired of your petty emotions. They always get in the way—don't you see that?_ "…" The boy's expression darkened, and his hand fell limply to his side. Kisame's expression revealed that he was not pleased by the events.

"Don't worry about him, Deidara-san. He's always—" Deidara's head shot up and he smiled brightly, making a sort of mix of a hiccup and a laugh.

"See ya, Sasori no danna! Gotta train, un! Yeah…I gotta train!"

As the boy ran through the hall, his mask cracked and he frantically tried to glue the hopelessly broken pieces together. His petty emotions couldn't get in the way in such a stupid matter. But he couldn't help but think, _I will never, ever call a person a freak unless they __**are**__ one. Never._

A hiccup escaped from his mouth, and he quickly stifled it. _I'm strong…I'm strong…I'm better than that…__**weasel**__…_

:--:

NOO! I'm making sweet Dei-chan into a freakin' Sai!

Okay, well…I think his behavior is justified. I do so love angst though. . I think he seems to only smile sarcastically or when he sees art.

Oh me, oh my. One of my goals for my fictions is that I wouldn't make the characters [extremely OOC. I think I'm failing miserably TT…Sorry Sasori! And Itachi. I made him talk too much. Ohh, _that's_ why he's so…not Itachi! Ugh! Darn you, Itachi, you social recluse!


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve…

Deidara ran through the hallways, panicky and nervous. What if that weasel was stalking him, just to mess with his brain? Or, perhaps, that kid wanted him to think that, just to baffle his brain, and make him an artistically screwed mess, when, in all actuality, he wasn't? Or…

The boy glanced behind him.

Yeah, well, his brain was screwing up itself. Itachi wasn't there.

He was outside now and proceeded towards the training grounds, looking forward to being alone. But someone had already arrived before him.

"Hey, brat." Deidara licked his chapped lips apprehensively. He wasn't in the mood for this. He needed to do something _without_ annoying puppets.

"What are you doing here?" The puppet tilted his head to the side lazily.

"How rude. And here I thought," he said with a sigh, "that I could help you train."

Deidara scowled. "I don't need your help. Go away." He began to slip his shirt off. "Well?"

"I used to be a man, too, brat. It's nothing that I haven't seen. And you better get in the habit of wearing your cloak," Sasori said, tonelessly.

"I…"

"Spit it out."

Deidara threw off his shirt, his back to the hulking puppet. "Nothing. Never mind." He still did not turn around. Sasori noticed the bandages that crossed his chest. They were loose and—was that blood?—Deidara had already pulled out another roll of bandages.

"What are you doing? Do that somewhere else—it's repulsive."

"Not any worse than what you do, is it, Sasori no danna? You gut people like fish and call it _art_." He had slipped an edge of a bandage across his shoulder. "Ow!" He pulled away his hand and stared at it intently, glaring. There were angry red marks ringing his palm. Sasori stayed silent. "I wonder…your parents—if you had any—if they had come back all broken and half-dead, would you kill 'em and gut 'em just like you do with those other people? Would you be able to put your hand in their stomach, feel their heart squirm with its last few breaths?"

A dry, humorless laugh invaded the silence that had followed.

"You think I would feel emotion, regret, _pain_, at your words? About my parents? They are no different—anything that I touch can become art, with time. Yes, I would be able to put my hand in their throat and burst their windpipe. I would gut them _alive_, if I had to."

"Would you have done that when you were a kid?" He had stopped his bandaging process, muttering something about teeth.

Another dry chuckle. "Why not?"

"Why would you?"

"Stop answering questions with questions. It's annoying."

Again, silence settled over the pair. Sasori stared at the boy, who was intent on his bandaging, wincing every now and then.

A hoarse cough broke through the quiet, and Sasori looked towards Deidara. The boy was hunched over, his bony shoulders heaving with each shuddering cough. He made no move to help the invalid.

Finally, the spell was over and Deidara had collapsed on his side, hugging his chest. A pool of blood surrounded his head as a sort of bloody halo framing his pale face.

"So…you could…gut me now, alive, un?" His eyes widened imperceptibly when Sasori slid forward in Hiroku.

"If you must know—yes." A mutilated wooden hand reached out and grasped Deidara's lean neck.

Then it was withdrawn.

"No, I can't."

Deidara stared at Sasori, and then looked down at his chest.

"You weren't supposed to see that." Within Hiruko, the redhead smirked.

"Apparently."

From the chest of the boy protruded a tongue, disturbing and wrong in all its nature.

"That," the large puppet motioned towards the slobbering chest mouth, "is not worthy of being in my art collection."

"You weren't supposed to see that," Deidara repeated quietly. Sasori stared at him intently. "You weren't supposed to see that!" He said once more, his voice reaching a fever pitch. "You weren't. You _weren't_."

"Don't get in such a fit, brat. I'm not human—you're not quite one either. Use your freak nature to your ability. And for Kami's sake, _shut up_." At that, Hiruko turned on its heel (if it had one) and disappeared.

That was about as friendly as Sasori could possibly get.

:--:

_Finally…the bandages are staying. _Deidara tucked the end of the bandage through the rest of the wrapping. _Stupid mouth._ The discarded shirt was slipped over his shoulders.

Coughing, he stood up and headed back to the lair, punching trees, kicking rocks and jumping over vegetation. It wasn't boring, like push-ups or sit-ups.

Stupid academy.

_The nin way is the … way. _That's what he used to say. _Sensei, I think that this whole "honorable ninjas" is …! Ninjas are never honorable. _

It was true. The way they attacked, the way their jutsus worked, how they moved… He excelled in all of his classes, but he just didn't agree. What they taught and what they said were completely separate.

A glint on the ground caught his wandering eye. Deidara bent down to investigate, brushing aside leaves and foliage to uncover the strange item.

He held it up to the light—it was a stiff ribbon, a sort of tarnished red. It looked like it had been abandoned for a while now, but there were no noticeable holes or tears in it. When fixed up, it would be a nice, rich red—just the color he liked.

It was the color of fire lapping up blood, you see.

Deidara fingered his tousled hair, held a strand out and set the ribbon against it. A pleasant contrast—when people see that combination, they would see fire, destruction, _art_, walking their way. An explosion—art.

He stood up and brushed off his pants, pocketing the precious ribbon.

All that consumed his mind, now, was his art. _His_ honorable way of the ninja. No sneaky attacks, just a clever mind and _art_.

Life is art. Explosions are art. _Death_ is _art_.

With that, Deidara continued on his way back to the lair.

Life. Death. Blood. _Art_.

:--:

AGH. I'm _so sorry_ for not updating. TT

And another thing—if I mentioned that Dei had his hair put up, I'm sorry! Wahh…This is a mess. I realized that Deidara had his hair down before he joined Akatsuki.

Does the end kind of sound "bleh", by the way?

I…have most of this figured out. So do not fear…much…

Really, I appreciate those who have stuck with me thus far…! I'm a rather lazy writer, I know…I apologize for the inconvenience.

At your service,

ShadowSight101


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen…

"**Holy** **SHIT, get that needle away from me!**"

"Stay still, you ungrateful little … !"

"It won't hurt…"

"**That's what they all say! Then it hurts like the bloody devil himself!**"

"Shut up, Sasori! You're making this harder than it already is."

"But it _shouldn't_ hurt. I'm telling the truth."

"**Aghh—**"

"For Kami's sake, _shut up_, Sasori. And you, too, you little … !" The needle was lowered towards the snarling mouth. Not only was the chest mouth trying to take Kakuzu's hand off, but so were the brat's hand mouths. _I can't take this any longer_, the masked man thought miserably. "You, puppet kid, occupy this little monster."

Sasori sighed. What to say…what to say…

"Kami! Just say _something_!" Kakuzu shouted over Deidara's incoherent babble.

"Where'd that mouth come from, brat?" Instead of answering, Deidara struggled harder and shouted louder. Kakuzu growled.

"That. Didn't. _Help_," he grunted as the boy kept kicking his arm away.

"Why are you doing that _manually_, anyway? Isn't it easier just to—"

"A waste of chakra," answered the older man. His answers were strained from frustration. As of yet, Sasori didn't feel like watching Kakuzu explode from irritation. Might as well help the poor man before he died from a heart attack.

Ah. Well. Figuratively. A seizure, then.

"Deidara," Sasori called, "what's so good about your art, anyway?"

Deidara, splayed across a surgical table (that Sasori used to gut people for his "art"), tilted his head so he could see around Kakuzu. Quickly, the masked man formed a seal with his hands and placed them over the boy's heart. Deidara jerked from the chakra being pumped into him.

"Wh-what…hurts…" Like a broken doll, his head fell back onto the table. Rapidly, his pale skin was turning a shade whiter.

"Whoa. What was that—"

"Shut up," Kakuzu ordered Sasori. "I stopped his heart for a while. He's dead right now. I can't take more than four minutes."

The puppet cocked his head to the side and grinned slightly. "You gotta teach me how to do that so quickly. It shuts him up pretty good." The surgeon didn't answer.

Deidara's chest mouth was slack, its teeth had stopped its gnashing. Kakuzu pushed the tongue back into its cavity and closed the lips carefully. _Weird. I can feel his heartbeat in that mouth._ Kakuzu shuddered. What a freaky body.

It's not like he could say anything, but…

The needle pierced the skin of the boy effortlessly, and the thick black thread followed with little trouble.

Two minutes had passed, and the mouth was sewn shut. All that was left was the seal itself.

Taking a brush and ink, Kakuzu quickly painted on the design—a cage around the mouth to keep it in its cavern, the wind around it to suppress its escape and the arrows to repel evil from the overexposed heart. As soon as the last stroke was set, the seal started to glow. The boy stirred, his blue eye struggling to open. Blood slowly began to circulate—color returned to his white cheeks. Kakuzu wiped his brow and sighed. His work here was done.

:--:

Deidara sat up, his blonde hair straggly and messy. The room spun alarmingly.

Something was missing.

He looked around the room, spotted Sasori, saw the beds, scanned the shelves…

What the hell was he missing?

The throbbing of his heart was—

Gone.

He fumbled with the edge of his shirt, then drew it up to his neck. Deidara traced the bumpy, knotted threads with a sense of disgust. He could feel his mouth roaring in anger, gnashing its teeth—with its lips sewn shut. The throb of his heart wasn't as noticeable—and it frightened him.

The clock read 11:36 PM.

Damn. How long had he been asleep? Deidara looked towards Sasori once more. His shape was a blur, with a red shock of color, like a target. The puppet looked idle; its eyes were closed peacefully. But he had to talk to someone.

"Sasori no danna?" The redhead didn't answer immediately, but eventually--"So, you're awake, brat."

"Un…" The room spun again, and he lay down immediately. He supposed that this is what vertigo felt like.

"Dizzy?"

"What do you think?" Deidara snapped.

"I guess I can't blame you," Sasori continued, unperturbed. "You were dead for a few minutes there." Deidara stared at him incredulously.

"Haha. Very funny. That was hilarious. Absolutely splendid."

"Shut up. And I'm serious—ask Kakuzu if you really don't believe me." Sasori turned back to his work. "And don't bother me anymore."

Deidara lay back on his bed.

Perhaps that was what he was really missing.

A chunk of his life.

"How'd he—"

"I'm serious this time, brat. Be—"

"Well, I just wanna know. Anything wrong with—"

"You know, I thought that, considering your history, you would have been a bit more…_obedient_." Sasori turned his red-tinted hazel eyes towards Deidara.

The boy cowered instinctively. "That's low, Danna…" Lazy eyes scanned his small frame.

"That's what a ninja is about." A frown formed automatically on the boy's lips—unwanted memories had been brought up.

"There's nothing honorable about a nin, then, Danna?"

"Why, no. Who put that crap into your head?"

"People who call themselves 'honorable teachers'." Sasori chuckled throatily.

"Right. Those people cannot be trusted. Authorities included—besides elders and Leader-sama."

Just Leader-sama?

"Why just him? Why is he so special? What's so damned special about a guy that has a huge chakra force and knows how to flaunt it?"

"Nothing," Sasori admitted. Deidara wasn't expecting _that_.

"You agree with me?"

"Yes—and no. I can't agree with you, but I do anyway. Don't tell the others."

"Why? Why don't you like him, Sasori no danna?"

"He's a little pipsqueak who claims to have seen all the horrors of the world—when he is in fact recreating most of them. He's young. He's stupid. He's naïve." Sasori snorted. "Just because he has the ability to absorb techniques—and create them—faster and better than the Sharingan doesn't mean a thing to me. It's not art. He doesn't treat it like art."

"Whoa, Sasori no danna. I didn't know you—"

"I don't, remember? I never thought those—I never said anything to you. Because…you're asleep."

What an interesting mind game, Deidara remembered thinking before he fell back to sleep.

:--:

Yeah RIGHT Dei it's a mind game! You're just a kid.

Anyway, thank you for everything, my faithful [and oh-so-cruelly misled! readers. Go find another, better Deidara story. Like TransientShadow's Iwagakure's Unexpected. [Yes, dear, I am advertising. XD Propoganda, wot! Except not.

Tell me what you think. I demand it from you, if I want to improve. And keep you guys happy. :D That's important, m'dears!

Good day.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen…

_Drip, drip, drip._

His vision swam.

"Stand up!"

He couldn't.

_Drip, drip, drip._

His hand reached out, grasping for something to hold onto.

"Put that down! You dirty wretch!"

The hand fell in his lap.

_Drip, drip, drip._

Blood was fascinating. It had collected into a pool by him.

"Fath—"

"Never speak to me! Shut up, shut up!"

_Dripdripdripdrip_

"It hurts."

"What did I say!" The rancid breath washed over the boy.

Whiskey, anger, whiskey.

Smash, smash, crack.

Blood, pain, blood.

_Drip, drip, drip_.

"Said shut up, shut up. Don't speak to you."

"So _silence_!"

The boy was forced to his feet—a tough, large hand grabbed a handful of his hair.

Drag, pull, drag.

"No, Father, no…I don't wanna…" He was faced with the basement steps.

The man was holding the boy off the ground by a foot by his hair and shirt.

The hands released the boy, sending him falling, rolling, falling.

No noise—no noise! No more.

Falling, falling.

He hit the bottom with a dull thud.

His vision swam—the only source of light was put out by the stone door.

_Drip, drip, drip._

The blood was warm and sticky. It was as fascinating as ever in the dark.

:--:

Deidara woke up slowly, his forehead feeling cramped with all the pain. Remembering the dream, he shuddered. There was nothing wrong with blood, but dreaming about _that man _was immoral.

"Sasori no danna?"

No answer.

_Humph. Ignoring me again…_

The room was dark, and he could barely see anything. Perhaps Sasori was in his puppet room.

It was suffocating—the dark closed around, clawing at him and constricting him.

"Sasori no danna?" A hint of panic entered his small, child's voice.

It was _really_ dark.

Demons, he remembered someone telling him, lurked there and waited to eat your soul.

That couldn't happen, Deidara laughed nervously. Demons don't exist. After all, the dark had been something that he used to welcome. Hell, he had even tried to give up his soul to those demons.

But now—it was so frightening, and he felt so vulnerable. The bedcovers couldn't hold off the dark.

And the silence. The silence—it was petrifying. He could hear his shallow breaths, the heartbeat, the roaring of the blood in his ears. He could hear his fingers clutch the coarse sheets, he could hear the twitch of his muscles, the slurp of his tongues. The chest mouth was roaring—silently. Deidara could hear it all. And he hated it.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" He sloppily molded some clay into something resembling a pigeon.

"_Katsu_!"

The welcome burst of heat, the crackle of the explosion and the colors—all of it was euphoric, bright and _loud_.

He went to sleep peacefully, oblivious to Sasori's amber eyes piercing through the dark from across the room.

"Good luck, brat. You have a lot to learn."

:--:

It wasn't dark anymore when Deidara woke. The torches were lit and he could see.

He fished around in his pocket, feeling a lump against his leg, and pulled out the red string. Then he smiled wearily, holding it up and seeing it shine dully against the torchlight.

"What is that thing? Another stupid little toy?" Instead, Deidara turned on Sasori and held out the ribbon.

"Can you put this in my hair?" The puppeteer stared at the boy in disbelief, who was still offering the ribbon to him in his outstretched hand.

"Wash yourself first—and the ribbon, too. It touched your mouths, brat." Deidara quickly grabbed it with his fingers and sped into the bathroom. Sasori rolled his eyes. What was he, a mother now? And Deidara was a girl? Well, _that_ much was obvious, but the whole ribbon ordeal was uncalled for. And weird.

The boy stepped out of the shower, drying his damp hair with a towel. He grabbed a brush and raked it hurriedly through his mane. His blonde hair was blonde again, he noted, satisfied.

The ribbon had been washed as well, and it was limp with moisture. Deidara let it dry next to him on the towel as well. Then he traced the sealing threads.

The _threads_. And the seal. It made him feel even more marked than ever.

But he was a normal boy. His mother had just given him a few extra mouths—or maybe his father. Yeah, his father. After all, he was the cause for everything wrong in his life.

"Sasori no danna…here." He held out the ribbon once more, this time with his fingers. Sasori hummed slightly, irritated, but he still took the ribbon and motioned for the boy to sit in front of him.

"What am I supposed to do with this? Strangle you?" Deidara turned around with a glare, and motioned impatiently to his hair.

"It's not like I want you to do this, but my arms still feel numb from my _dead_ experience. And anyway, you're always doing your _puppets'_ hair. What's so different?" Sasori waited until Deidara had turned his back to him once more, and then proceeded to pull it back in a ponytail.

"You look weird with a ponytail. And you call yourself a guy?" Deidara bristled.

"Shut up! I…don't look good with short hair. It'd be like you with long hair."

Sasori shuddered.

"My point exactly."

"That wasn't what I was shuddering at, brat." His fingers nimbly worked through the soft hair.

"What?"

"I was shuddering at the thought of you being a guy."

"You—!"

"Whoa! Settle down. I'll never be able to get your oh-so-manly hair up like this."

"Urgh!" Deidara sat back down (he had stood up in his frustration) in a childish manner, his arms crossed and his mouth in a pout. Sasori rolled his eyes.

"Now you _seriously_ look like a girl." The boy continued to pout—no matter if it was girly! Get the point across. "And you act like a little brat. Thus—you are 'brat'."

"That's nice."

A dry chuckle escaped Sasori's throat.

"But—you're not so bad for a brat."

Although Deidara didn't answer, he was grinning. A true child's grin, although hesitant, without a hint of malice.

He had just gotten approval for his existence.

:--:

Deidara now suffers from Achluophobia[Or Lygophobia, Myctophobia, or Scotophobia Because, like all small children, he associates what he has experienced to the circumstances around it. I know exactly what that feels like, because I used to be somewhat Achluophobic. Not quite, but almost.

Sasori's starting to train and teach Dei, indirectly, of course. Because Dei needs to get ready for the big, bad world of S-rank criminals!

Please tell me what you thought of the chapter--feedback, critisism, anything would be nice.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen…**

The following day, Deidara woke up at 5:20 AM. He was greeted by an incredulous wooden stare. He sat up, flustered by the unblinking gaze.

"You're up." A bland statement from the hunched puppet. Deidara relaxed.

"Danna!" He grinned, almost seeing the irritation on the carved face.

However, he wasn't allowed to revel in his triumph for long. He watched as the puppet sealed the secret puppet room—for good.

"Danna?" Hiruko's head spun an eerie 180 degrees, fixing Deidara with another wooden glare.

"Do you every listen, brat? I did tell you we are moving to Amegakure." His carving tools were sealed into a scroll.

"What about the beds?"

"The villagers will be housing us at the local inn. Just hurry and pack up your…" He trailed off as he looked at the pouches of clay. "…things."

"Art, un!"

"We're leaving in ten minutes."

~:--:~

Deidara didn't have much to pack. He placed all of his clay into three pouches, crushing his half-finished clay sculptures and adding those to his stash as well. Feeling his hair that Sasori had _so generously_ put up for him, Deidara realized that he had slept in the ponytail and it was horribly tangled. Pulling out the ribbon with a sigh, the boy continued to pack his sparse belongings. He was wearing all of his clothes, except the Akatsuki cloak and his hat—both of which he pointed out looked utterly ridiculous on Hiruko.

"Danna," he called to the lumbering figure ahead of him. They were walking at a surprisingly swift pace for Hiruko. "Your puppet looks strange dressed up like that."

In a moment, he found himself pressed against the wall with Hiruko's steel tail slithering around his face.

Deidara squirmed, filled with an agonizing sense of déjà vu.

And let out a very unmanly "eep!" when he fell to the ground. Hiroku's eyes flashed, and Sasori's voice rang out ominously.

"Hurry up. We've kept Leader-sama for far too long." _And it's all your fault_ added the puppet's glass glare. Deidara grumbled as Sasori ambled along, contrary to his previous statement.

All the members were gathered at the front, except for Konan and Zetsu. Leader said that they would meet the rest of them there. Kisame opened his mouth in complaint.

"Don't tell me we have to _walk_ there?" For once, he said this without his trademark grin, bummed by the thought of walking across Iwa's scorching landscape. Everyone was immediately fixed with the startling grey rings the leader had for eyes. Everyone shivered, a tremor passing through the group.

"No," the dark figure said after a long, unbearable silence. "We'll be flying there."

Sasori seemed very put off by this announcement. Even with Hiruko as his exterior shell, annoyance emanated from his hunched form.

However, no one else understood exactly what Leader meant.

"Fly?" Kisame inquired incredulously.

"What the hell! Jashin-sama never gave me the power to fly, even if I am immortal."

"Allegedly," Kakuzu grunted. "Even if I have sewn you together many times, there's got to be a limit…"

"Enough." Everyone stopped talking, even though the voice was not angry. "Do you feel like listening now?" A simultaneous nod, and Leader began once more. "We will fly on Deidara's birds." The boy could have sworn he saw the grey eyes flash. With amusement or anger, he'd never know.

"A shocked silence invaded the room, and, after a few seconds, everyone whipped their heads to Deidara such that he feared for their necks. (_Honestly, _he thought, _it must be a trend today—staring at me._)

"He's just a brat!" Growled Kakuzu, his dull green eyes flashing. More complaints quickly followed.

"I forgot he was here…"

"…Stupid brat…"

"Hmph. We'll die, thanks to him."

"_Her_, Itachi-san!"

"Kisame…"

"He looks damn unreliable. You sure his shit isn't gonna just explode on us?" Hidan's voice cut in.

Deidara blinked. "Not unless you piss me off, un. Or someone decides to stick something sharp into 'em." He directed this last comment towards Sasori and ignored Kisame's perverted snickering.

Leader looked around, noting that none of the members were particularly thrilled by this information. He turned abruptly and made a flurry of handseals. Turning back to the group, he nodded. "Once the last member walks out of here, this place will return to solid rock—the secrets will be sealed here with the disappearance of this camp. Now, it is time to leave." Even as he said this, a large rumbling filled the cavernous room, echoing and awesome in its sheer power. The corridor began to solidify, its rock walls expanding and compressing the space within. The rumbling began to overtake the room they stood in—the floor rolled like an angry, solid sea. One by one, they hurtled out into the open through the quickly shrinking entryway. Deidara paused at the doorway when it was his turn to leave—the last one.

Sasori's metal tail lashed out and pulled Deidara outside.

"_Brat._" He spat contemptuously. The boy didn't say a word. Slightly suspicious about the daze the boy was in, Sasori groaned inwardly. "Brat," he hissed. "I don't care if you thought that was 'art'. Leader-sama said 'out' so 'out' you—"

"—But he said that it would close once the last member—"

"—Because we're supposed to carry out his orders swiftly and efficiently—without sentimentalities or any attachments. What he meant is that we were to leave before it closed." The boy wrinkled his nose at the logic. He opened his mouth to give life to the retort growing thick on his tongue.

"Deidara," a calm voice summoned. Deidara looked up at the curiously nondescript features of the Leader. A different sort of genjutsu, then. "The birds?"

The blonde-haired boy blinked, then realized his job. Feeding his hand mouths some clay, he quickly infused the to-be sculptures with as much chakra as he could sacrifice. Squeezing the softened clay into the form of—

"Eagles, if you will," Leader cut in. Deidara blinked again, then formed the requested shape. Throwing them up into the air, he made the necessary seal and watched as everyone but Sasori and Leader jumped in surprise. The birds quickly grew to a larger than life size; with so many spots of chakra hovering, separated, from his body, Deidara searched for his creations for a moment before ordering them to their respective riders. Kisame held his pulsating, hungry sword away from his bird.

"Is this made outta pure chakra or what? Samehada's hungry."

Deidara rolled his eyes. "As long as your sword doesn't slice my art, you won't become fish stew."

Before Kisame could snap back, Leader stared into the sunrise.

"We must leave now—dawn has broken and the dew will soon be dried up. Deidara." He finished, the command insistent and obvious.

"Yes, Leader-sama," the blonde tried, the title foreign on his tongue. "Everyone, stand, sit, lie down—just keep sharp objects off of 'em." He leapt up on his bird, commanding it to rise. The rest followed suit, although some hesitated.

As soon as Sasori jumped on his bird, Deidara told his creations to depart to the south east.

The sun glowed red.

~:--:~

_Yes. I realize, it's been a while. No amount of apologies will suffice...And I'm afraid that this chapter is obscenely short and not leading anywhere.  
Feedback would be wonderful, however, and I'm so very grateful you guys have even bothered to read this.  
Happy Turkey Murder Day--Don't get trampled when shopping. :)_


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